At the beach I wear either billowy soft white or light blue denim. It's my thing. Today I wore both. Denim during the day and white for my evening walk to the beach to be with the sinking sun and sunset.
I still favor the jeans and peasant tops of my youth, the gauzier the better. And, what one of the kids in my youth group in Wilmington called my "flowy clothes." The closet is a sea of blue and white.
I notice I still love the light pinks for my cheeks and lips. I spent some time in my 20s in reds, my 30s in light brick colors, my 40s in neutral soft reds, my 50s saw the return to my 20s and then my teen preferences. Maybe I'm aging backwards.
Beach waves twist themselves into my white and silver hair.
It was a day of sinking more deeply into peace, softness, and relaxation. A quiet day spent reading, taking walks, and watching the moon's blue and white dance with the late afternoon sky. I talked to my brother in the afternoon, and will return the call of a friend later. I like being quiet when I can. I like days and days of quiet. I emerge feeling grounded and wise.
Walking back from the beach in the lessening light and the growing dark, I notice the songs of cicadas, loud and raucous. Now, I notice they are still there, but are more subdued. Softer. It's just after 8 and it's already dark. Only two months ago, there would have been almost an hour more of daylight and its residue after sundown.
The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape into my own human experience.
Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.
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