The Whatcom Land Trust has been a favorite activity for Joan Casey for years. Recently, they have helped me find the Jade Stone (Olivine) Bench, obtain permission to place it at the Pt. Whitehorn Marine Reserve, and installed it.
Here's two photos I took today from Point Whitehorn Park, at the end just before the walk down to the beach.
Here's two photos I took today from Point Whitehorn Park, at the end just before the walk down to the beach.
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| Pt. Whitehorn Marine Reserve |
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| Joan's Bench at Point Whitehorn Inscription etched into left side: So beautiful... Joan Casey 1941-2016 |
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| View from Joan's Bench - The Salish Sea |
-------The following was written a few days ago early in the morning with a mystical scene capturing my attention----
The predawn stillness is reverential in nature, with the almost full moon setting slowly in the west.
A mist layer permeates the sky above bay and isles, both near and far.
Soon it will be gone...
Beautiful in every aspect except one; impermanence.
Ah, impermanence, an elegant cruelty; but don’t worry there will be another moment, then another; every one impermanent in their very uniqueness!
This reverie reminds of my first glimpse at one, Miss Joan Casey, arriving breathlessly at a carpool across a crowded parking lot.
That’s not as romantic as across a crowded room, but it will have to do.
That’s not as romantic as across a crowded room, but it will have to do.
Her main expression, observable at a distance, was one of pure exhilaration at being at that place and time, anticipating a wonderful walk in nature with friends.
What a very apparent joy she must have felt to elicit that aura of lightness of spirit!
What a very apparent joy she must have felt to elicit that aura of lightness of spirit!
Anyway, it certainly caught my eye and became the beginning of the long journey we happily took together.
Now, Joan isn’t physically around any more, but her presence remains, not so much as a protest to the whole idea of impermanence, but the expectation of ever-appearing new experiences.
As our love grew over the miles we hiked, there was always room for another adventure, then another, and another.
And, you know what; it’s still happening!!
That was how Joan was, constantly on the lookout for another wonderful experience!
And you know, that kind of wonderful expectation was bound to succeed, as it did, over and over again.
Now on the eve of what might have been Joan’s 76th birthday, I am again experiencing great joy in having known her and recalling that moment.
The memories we shared do have a way of sticking with you…
The memories we shared do have a way of sticking with you…
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One such memory comes to mind of the time we walked the 95-mile West Highland Way in Scotland;
I made up a silly marching song as we walked along in misty cold, seeking to raise spirits, which it did.
It went like this, to the tune of “Oh Britannia”:
Oh, the Deebit,
The Deebit walks with me
Oh, the little Deebit walks with me.
Oh, the Lambit,
The Lambit is so fine,
Oh, the little Lambit’s love is mine.
Oh, the Joanie,
The Joanie is my wife.
Oh, the little Joanie lights my life.
Note: since Joan had 2 dimples when she smiled, I called them Deebit and Lambit
Now that’s written, as the sun is rising….
The duty crow has already begun its futile dive-bombing attempts at making the gulls leave his roof.
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