The Siren Song of the Pacific
I can full well understand the lure of the Siren song… Spend time on the shore, listening to the crash of waves onto battered rocks, and there it is, subtly luring you closer… Awed by the roar, the oceanward swish of receding water, the trickle of transient waterfalls like a thousand tiny bells, and the hypnotic swirl of foam, I move closer still, heedless of the incoming tide… There it is again, the waterfall that caught my eye, flowing only when the largest of waves crashes near me, singing a mesmerizing tune that none can resist… A bit closer, before the Sun disappears behind cloud, horizon, or both… By now, I’ve been lulled by the crash of wave after wave on the rocks, and one more crash has little meaning till I realize this was the largest wave I’ve seen all afternoon. Moments later, having barely kept my footing on the slick rocks, I’m in retreat, soaked from head to toe on this frigid December evening, and my camera is destined for Harry’s shop again. Worse, this entire episode was witnessed by a first worried and now stern Muse, to whom I’ve now promised never to venture so close to the water again. Ah, but the Sirens call…
