I sit on my hammock.Not in the usual way.I’m not lying in it, but rather I’m sitting in it with my feet on the ground and rocking back and forth. I hear the waves breaking. But I cannot see them.I hear the pling of stray rain drops on our metal roof.And a motorcycle on the Chocolata.A flock of parakeets squawks past.A gecko makes its cricket noise. I see green. A jungle of green.And I see empty white houses, their owners elsewhere, waiting for tourists to fill them.I see the Christ Statue on top of the headland, his arm outstretched in …

A few days ago, on our way to getting a great latte, we spotted a parade of yellow-petal-carrying ants along the sidewalk in front ofCesar Alberto Morales Rivera’s Indio del Sur coffehouse. My gaze stopped and followed the line of moving petals back from where they came. They were descending a nearby tree full of blooms of matching yellow petals. Then, like a sniffing hound dog, I followed where they were going: west along the sidewalk, with a quick sharp left turn before climbing up the wooden siding of a house. From there, the column of ants turned left again …

We wash and sweep the sidewalks. We trim grass with clippers. We build boats on dirt roads. We see. We chat. We photograph. We post.

We have a good friend, Jon Adler, visiting us from our past hometown of Steamboat Springs, Colorado, USA. On his to-do list was to get a local haircut and a straight-edge shave, so today we took him to a barbershop on the SE corner across from the church, which always seems to be packed. The barber’s chair, and all four plastic chairs for people waiting were taken, half an hour before they closed for lunch, so a little after 1:00, I returned with Jon (my husband, John, went home) and we waited his turn. Cesar, the barber, greeted us with …

We have been watching this rain approach via computer models. We shopped for groceries. Made sure we had enough purified water. Froze two gallon-sized water jugs to later be placed in the fridge if we lost power. And cancelled a Game Night we were planning to host on our open air terrace. And today it arrived. Although tomorrow it’s supposed to be worse. We lost power last night around 2 am. It’s still off. And was off most of yesterday morning. I sit outside on my covered front porch writing this at 5:38 pm by what little natural light is …

A perfect heart. A boat and brilliant flowers. Arteries etched in sand. And an abandoned, washed up dream.

Jose may be missing his leg but he has his son Francisco and dog Oso who pick him up every day and brings him to the river by the edge of the sea to see what they can see. Jonathan has the intricately beautiful art made by his mother to hold and to sell but he doesn’t have the tourists to buy it. And we may each lack a magic wand but at least we do have the hearts that could wave it.

He carries a mosquito fumigation gun which routinely blasts mosquito-killing chemicals into homes and businesses in town. She carries a pail full of plantains on her head. He carries upon his head fresh strawberries balanced on a full and well-cared-for box labeled Washington State Apples. Babies are carried in the crook of one arm while the bicycle is steered with the other. Grandmothers are carried, seated side saddle, on the back of son’s motorcycles. And hidden away, but just as colorful and unique, each one of us carries our hopes, dreams and fears.

•Wednesday Night was Writer’s Group: 6 Writers •Thursday Afternoon was Speed English’s first event: 10 English-Language Students & 10 Fluent-English Speakers •Friday Morning was Water Aerobics at Pelican Eyes: 6 of us old farts keeping in shape •Saturday was Farmer’s Market at Big Wave Dave’s: Many people •Sunday was Oscar Danilo Collado Dinarte’s church youth group at our house for a swim: 13 darling kids learning how to swim and 7 lifeguards I sweep the house. Do a load of laundry. And take a long nap.