Saturdays with Sam OM

GOOD MORNING

This morning in the predawn light just before sunrise a huge flock of pelicans silently glided right over our courtyard.  They were intent on going to their offices to type up reports on the weather, tide charts, fishing conditions and whatever else pelicans do when they work.  They have it all figured out.  They knock out the paperwork, then they spend most of the day either fishing or just floating around looking down looking down at the beautiful Sea of Cortez.

You can just imagine the wonderful sights they must see.  Pods of Vaquitas, a small dolphin species that lives here, and are a very endangered group.  We hope they can survive.  Even this far North they occasionally see huge whales, seals and small fish jumping.  That is the signal for the pelicans to dive into the sea for lunch.  When they dive it reminds you of a WWII dive bomber.  They go straight in with their wings partially out and constantly moving slightly changing their angle of attack as they go in.  At the instant of impact the wings extend fully in a braking action so that they can dive full out into less than a foot of water and not break their necks.

The intricacy of this ballet is wonder inspiring.
Right behind the pelicans a pair of bats flew in to take a drink from our swimming pool.  They fly around with their rapid darting style, and swoop down to just touch the surface of the water, then fly up for another loop at the pool.  The sparrows and hummingbirds like to sleep in.  We don’t see them until after sunrise.  The sparrows, and a series of other as yet unidentified birds arrive to hop around and pick up little stuff from the wide variety of plants we have.

There are several date palms with green dates just starting to ripen, hanging in big bunches from high up.  Some of the impatient birds will eat them green, and our dogs also eat the ones that fall on the ground.  I wonder if the birds poop like the dogs do after eating green dates?  Shortly after the little birds, the even smaller hummingbirds arrive, darting around drinking from the flowers, then at break time they settle into the palm trees to wait for the signal to go back to work.  I have no idea what that signal is.  I have never heard the hummingbird version of the factory whistle.  But they do hear it, for all at once they all leap into action.

Our plumera plant is blooming now.  (That’s the flower that the Hawaiians us to make leis.  It’s very fragrant), and the oleanders, and assorted other plants give them a daily feast of nectar.  But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
I had to take a little break in writing this to go watch the sunrise.  There is a narrow bank of clouds on the horizon to the east that seems to be there almost every morning.  Just before sunrise they turn a wide variety of oranges from pastel to bright.  Suddenly the sun pops up for a minute, then hides behind the clouds for a few minutes, with a few bright yellow shafts of light bouncing through them.

In short order the sun burns off those clouds, and we have the usual cloudless day coming to life.  In these few moments it is as if the world stops to bless the new day and everything is totally quiet.  It is always a magical moment.  This morning the silence was broken by some children showing up on the beach.  They are laughing, running up and down and playing in the gentle surf that is washing ashore as the morning tide begins to recede.  This is the time I have to hold my little dog up so that she can see over the wall on our deck and look over her world.  She smells the air for new scents and carefully examines the courtyard and the sea to make sure everything is in its rightful place.  Holding her like that makes me love her even more.

These are special moments.

I started this writing to describe our courtyard, and boy did I get sidetracked.  It too is a thing of beauty.  It’s about 150  feet long with one half dominated by a swimming pool shaped roughly like a guitar and with a little bridge over the middle of it.  The other half is a gorgeous garden of palm trees, oleander bushes, barrel cacti, and several other varieties.  Then there are the flowers and bunches of grasses.  It is truly a tranquil place.  It is extremely difficult to be stressed out in this secluded place.  We are truly blessed and thankful to live such a life of
Hope this finds you well, and don’t forget to find some joy in today.

Love all of you,
Sam.

One Response to “Saturdays with Sam OM”
  1. Elayne Caldwell

    I’m really enjoying your Saturday posts, Sam, You capture life in San Felipe so descriptively and in a wonderfully laid-back manner. I just discovered “Saturdays with Sam OM” and you can bet that I will look forward to reading it every week.

    This weekend, campers have filled the dry beach at Club de Pesca and the dunes are roaring with cars and quads going up and down, up and down, all day and ALL night! With windows closed, the sounds from the dunes are a comforting hummmmmmm. After so many hard years, tourism during Santa Samana has returned to SF in a big way.

    Yesterday afternoon when the tide was out, campers were setting up on the beach. Neighbor Janet grabbed the tide charts and let them know that during the night, when high tide was expected to be 19 ft., and the Sea of Cortez will probably be in their tent. They were so very grateful and offered food, drinks and friendship to her. It would be nice if all the “locals” could be as good a neighbor.

    Thanks again, Sam, for your wonderful posts.

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