#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
“Sea hares are herbivorous, and are typically found on seaweed in shallow water. Some young sea hares seemingly are capable of burrowing in soft sediment, leaving only their rhinophores and mantle opening showing. Sea hares have an extremely good sense of smell. They can follow even the faintest scent using their rhinophores, which are extremely sensitive chemoreceptors.
Their color corresponds with the color of the seaweed they eat: red sea hares have been feeding on red seaweed. This camouflages them from predators. When disturbed, a sea hare can release ink from its ink glands, providing a fluid, smoke-like toxic screen, adversely affecting its predators’ olfactory senses while acting as a powerful deterrent. The toxic ink may be white, purple, or red, depending on the pigments in their seaweed food source and lightens in color as it spreads, diluted by seawater. ”
Let your stress response be purple
Forced myself awake into a new time orientation: gosh, I was tired. I went out early with my daughter’s friend–my friend, young lady I’ve known since her babyhood–and my daughter slept in, but we were eager to see what the wind and tide wished up. So many creatures these last windy days; so many strange beings to identify, like sea pork, a pinkish blob, very unappetizing looking, but as it turns out, a great cleanser for the sea. And, last week, I realized I posted a video of what I thought was sea cucumber, but my friend helped me realize, when we looked it up again, that it’s actually a sea hare. And tossed on the sand by a wave it was letting off its purple ink, apparently, a “stress response.” And the writer in me immediately thought, well, we humans would do well to let our own stress responses be expressed in bright purple ink! And, oh, there are so many ways to be stressed today in this challenging time of viruses and politics. But we didn’t talk, on our beach walk, of stress. We talked about her young life, her dreams and her gifts and her plans and her talents and goals. How lucky I am to have such wonderful visitors. And, certainly, my daughter too, all the laughter we had the whole day. We found sea urchins washed up and more whelk egg cases, and very few shorebirds: they hid out of the wind. Later, I kayaked in our favorite place with the girs, across the street, our habitual Sunday activity: and Shane gave the kayaks and warned us: the bay is windy. Not windy enough for him to close. We went anyway. Straight up the canal to the rookery where countless birds are nesting, the pelicans, cormorants, ibis and heron and egrets and, yes! The roseate spoonbill! So fine on display! We got caught in some feisty wind further into the bay and my daughter sulked, and we all fought our way back, and my daughter’s friend caught a quick glimpse of a manatee! And on a brief break from the fun, I found some time to open the riptide poem and I ripped it in half and separated the two parts as my pals had suggested I might do. And then I saw, yes, the way to make them work separately, and better as a result. I spent some very worthwhile time on these; likely, I’ll bring them tomorrow night to my Monday night workshop. There is a super moon beaming light across the Gulf. And the rocking of surf. To be in this day, this day only, not knowing anything but now. I am here in this moment with gratitude for the beauty and mystery I experienced today.
