Nica Nuggets, The Pink Kayak Adventures and More!
Have you seen these yet while walking on the beach along the bay of San Juan del Sur? I’m not going to tell you where they are, so that you can go looking and can have the joy of finding them yourself. Enjoy! And while you’re at it…see how many different species of birds you spot along the way. It’s time to look closer and deeper at this gorgeous world around us. San Juan del Sur, I love you.
Yes that’s it’s official name: A kaleidoscope.Also: A swarm. A rabble. A flutter. For the past two weeks John and I have been walking into clouds of butterflies, all but hidden in the duff of the dirt or cobbled roads, only to be set aloft with our passage. They dance amongst the flowers. Some even clatter, as if with castanets, as they flutter in pairs past me in my hammock. John jokes that we should take some psychedelic drugs and just sit for hours and observe them. I laugh back that no external drugs are needed. They are their own …
It is our three-month anniversary of self-quarantining. It began when Costa Rica announced that they were closing their border, because suddenly that made the Pandemic seem locally real (since the Nicaragua government was saying little and the Costa Rica border, which we often cross to access flights to the States and back, is just a 50-minute drive away). At first we worried about the possibility of there being disruptions to food, propane and purified water being brought into town. So we made sure our propane tanks were filled and bought two extra 5-gallon jugs and stocked our pantry shelves just …
Tonight, when John and I walked down to the beach to watch the sunset, we were surprised by all the people at the Talanguera end of the beach, which is near where we live. People playing soccer. Sitting in beach chairs (which is not a common sight). Swimming. Walking. Running. Digging in the sand. And then we turned south along the beach towards town and were surprised by the new, huge cut in the sand between the estuary and the sea. We got there just in time to watch as the machine that made the cut was trailered away. Yes, …
This is where our daily morning walk takes us. Where does your daily morning walk take you?
A man climbs high up in a tree and shakes ripe mangoes to the ground. While nearby, yellow butterflies sip nectar from red flowers with their tongues. Tis June!
I’m lying on my bed exhausted. But that good kind of exhausted. Today I had a wonderful surprise. I saw vistas I’ve never seen before and walked on trails I’ve never trod and never even knew existed. I had my jaw drop open from beauty, and from surprise like a kid on Christmas. And basically in my own front yard! It is almost 3 months since John and I began our “self-quarantine.” And since we don’t have a car, we have spent three months only going places we can walk. Fortunately, we chose where we live for the wonderful walks …
Last weekend’s weather forecast called for a severe storm. Fishermen brought their boats in. The severe storm missed us, lashing out at El Salvador to the north of us instead. But our waves were big and loud. And our high tide was very high. The rains came and the brown of landscape turned a glorious riotous green. Workers with machinery arrived at the estuary and punched a channel out from the river to the sea. So the river could easily flow with the rains and not get all choked up. In my home country, the United States, the forecast is …
One year ago, John and I rented a car and headed north past Managua, past Matagalpa, past Esteli and Ocotal and up into the pine forests to the town of Jalapa which sits just shy of the Honduran border. We spent the night in the countryside, although it was accessed from right in town. Hotel Campestre El Patano. A German man and his blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenage son ran the place, which normally (read: during non-crisis years) is bustling, he said, with mission groups running projects nearby. On this day we were the only ones there. The next morning a gentleman …
My neighbor, Juaquin, calls them Papallomollo, the flying creatures that dropped their wings at my door last night and began their terrestrial existence. The crabs, I don’t know their name nor where they have been all of dry season, but today I saw them on the road at the top of Pacific Marlin by Cristo. And later along the scree where the hillside turns into the beach. And the brilliance of the air and sea! As if rain drops could settle the dust down to the bottom of the sea. And Nella. She finally, after months, left the shady bush …