The family gathered this weekend to celebrate a graduation. My baby brother and his wife graduated their middle child from high school...MY high school.
My roots are in this town. And so much here - and in the surrounding area - feels home, feels right in a way I am not sure I can describe. But it also feels far away.
Graduation:
 |
| Flags at the high school |
The graduates were a rowdy bunch. They called each other out in their speeches with humor and love. They recognized each student who would be the "last" from their family to graduate from the school. They stood and honored the family whose child, a member of their class, died last year. That family sat on the field with the graduates, but just apart.
After graduation all of the families took to the field with their children, talking, laughing and taking photos.
My class didn't graduate from the football field (the only place in town big enough for the crowd then and now). It rained and so we graduated from the auditorium. It seems we had to limit our guests, but we graduated and headed out into the world.
But there was no rain this year. Two Boy Scouts marched before the 130+ graduates who made a final procession around the field.
 |
| Scouts lead the graduates |
Valedictorian, salutatorian and honor graduate thanked parents and sisters and uncles and mentors and classmates in more personal and casual addresses than I recall. A few students "acted up" taking the mike for a comment or doing a little dance or flashing a hand sign as their names were called. But this appeared to have been expected. This was one of those classes that challenged the teachers and schools. And as you almost heard the sighs of relief, you also recognized the pride and "felt the love."
We cheered and hooted when the nephew's name was called and as he walked the stage. Then we cheered and hooted again for his cousin in his turn.
 |
| Families crowd to reach the field with hugs and flowers and balloons - all under the glare of those bright stadium lights. |
We walked to the stadium and walked home again, along the same streets where, as children and teens, we walked, rode our bikes, ran for P.E., and practiced driving (and, according to one great writer - watched the crickets die under the street lights).
Home. Always home, but also not home anymore. We are guests. We are visitors here.
Indian Point Park:
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.*
The Park -
My next younger brother had suggested a hike at Indian Point Park** for early Saturday morning. Although it had been a late night at the graduation, we all rose, grabbed some coffee and headed to the park.
The park is just across the bay from Corpus Christi at the northeast side of the causeway leading to the harbor bridge.
 |
| Corpus Christi skyline as seen from the park - I once walked across that bridge... |
We arrived just behind sunburned/weathered fishermen*** - some already staking out spots on the pier and others preparing to drop a line in the water.
The shore birds were out in variety, if not in numbers. We saw herons and stilts. One roseate spoonbill flashed its pink plumage at us and was joined by at least a half dozen to a dozen others before we left the park. Sandpipers danced across the beach. Gulls flew and called to us from overhead.
 |
| Black mangrove |
 |
| Primrose |
 |
| Primrose and petunia |
My brother is a naturalist,**** an ecologist. Where I see "shore birds" he sees oystercatchers***** and herons (OK - I know a heron when I see it) and terns. I see scrub and he sees black mangrove and sea oxeye and wolfberry.
I love to hike with him, but fear that I sometimes ask too many questions:
"What is that peat-like material on the shore?" I asked.
"Sargasso seaweed decomposing, I think." he replied.
"Was that a coconut? Where do you think it came from?" I inquired.
"Yes. From far, far away." said he.
 |
| Heron enjoying the boardwalk (seagulls flying in the distance). |
 |
| shore bird |
 |
| Roseate spoonbill (bad photo, but I had to prove we saw them). |
 |
| Oystercatcher (catching oysters, I presume) |
I lagged behind mostly, taking pictures of rusted metal, abandoned rope and shells.
I am always surprised at the changing varieties of shells on the shore.****** Today there were angel wings
(yes, I know shells) everywhere. And lightning whelk shell casings were strewn across the sand. So it was not really a huge surprise then to see lightning whelks, large and small, at the water's edge. Some were brightly colored while others were crusted with worm tubes and barnacles. All were occupied.
There, there's a cockle shell. And there, that's a slipper shell. All sorts of tiny shells crunched underfoot.
I picked up a few shells for my sister and another friend, but each time I lifted a whelk or a moon shell, a hermit crab peeked out before pulling itself as far into the interior as possible. Some showed their toes, while others disappeared entirely.
 |
| A hand-full of shells - The shy hermit crab hid in the recesses of the lightning whelk. |
 |
| Whelk surrounded by tiny shells - mostly opened bivalves |
Later, as we walked back to the car, we passed a father shelling with his small sons. I noticed that they had gathered a bucket of whelks. I had to stop.
"You know. There's someone home in those shells." I told them.
"Yes." one solemn boy spoke -
"Crabs." "Hermit crabs," I said, nodding agreement with him. Their father assured me they would release the crabs before they left. I showed the boys the angel wings and gave them its name and then handed them other a small, iridescent mussel.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."*
 |
| Family walking the beach |
 |
| DH and FUM walk towards a spot where the bird (black spot in clouds at left) chattered and cried and flew towards us as if protecting a nest. We never saw the nest, but the bird never gave up its efforts. |
 |
| Close-up of the bird... |
 |
| The sun turns the murky water to silver |
 |
| Whelk and other shells at the water's edge |
 |
| Beautiful fish bones caught in seaweed |
 |
| NYB noted how the plants changed with the slightest elevation on these islands/sandbars. Prickly pear cactus is bright green snuggling under the higher shrubs. |
 |
| Rusty metal lines up with wooden posts further out in the water - remnants of an old pier? |
 |
| Ruins - a work of art |
 |
| Coconut from exotic shores |
 |
| As far as we walked |
 |
| Hermit crabs in their whelk homes crowd the top of a rotting wooden post |
 |
| Close-up of post covered in hermits |
 |
| Yucca growing just feet from the water - remains of a sea turtle at its feet |
 |
| Gaillardia blooming mid-frame/Oxeye at the bottom of the photo. |
 |
| DH and NYB walk ahead as we returned to the parking area near the fishing pier |
 |
| Fisherman (with causeway in the background) |
 |
| Sun, clearing the clouds, shining on the sea as we left the park |
NOTES:
*
The Walrus and The Carpenter, Lewis Carroll (from
Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872) --Daddy gave me a copy of
Through the Looking-Glass when I was little. I still have the volume. I once memorized this poem. It returns in bits and pieces at the strangest times.
** http://onpadreisland.com/indian_point_pier.aspx
***I do so miss hanging out with some of Daddy's fishermen friends. They often smelled of salt and cigars and had many stories to tell.
****He has given me a guided tour of my own yard, identifying plants and advising which should stay - which should be removed.
*****http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/american_oystercatcher/id
****** In 1974 I went to Port Aransas for spring break with a friend, her parents and a group of her college friends. I was still in school and only spent the weekend. I felt decidedly out-of-place and spent most of the weekend walking the beach, sometimes talking with my friend, and sometimes shelling alone. One day the tide left the most incredible selection of olive shells, sand dollars, whelks, and other shells. To this day I have never had a shelling experience like that. I gathered shells for hours and later made shell bordered mirrors and other craft projects. It was a magic time as was today.
[Photos will be cropped and added later in the week]
EXTRAS: Had to put these somewhere
 |
| Nothing says "feeling at home" like working a crossword puzzle before a nap |
 |
| Palm trees and cotton fields and wind farms - The crops looked good. And in other fields we saw sunflowers and wine cups and gaillardia. |
 |
| BBQ at one of Mom's favorite spots |
 |
| That's a beautiful plate. |
