Zazou hasn’t yet decided whether the beach is actually part of her garden or not. We deduce this because not only have we never seen her down there, but she persists in bringing mice and voles into the house, instead of clams and oysters.
Beppo definitely prefers the terrestrial garden, although since he’s a big copycat, the day Zazou goes down to the sea will certainly change Beppo’s life too.
We happily take advantage of the best of both worlds, the early crop of flowers on our little water-facing patio, and the amazing crop of water birds and water vessels that we can watch from it. So far, in only three weeks here, we’ve seen gulls, ducks, geese, cormorants, pigeon guillemots, eagles, otters, seals, ferries galore, sail boats, motor boats, tug boats, barges, an aircraft carrier, and three
submarines. Really and truly, aircraft carriers and submarines go right past our back door, on Rich Passage, the stretch of water otherwise known as WA Highway 304, a nomenclature that we find hilarious.
The aircraft carrier, the USS John C. Stennis, passed us with 3000 sailors onboard, many of whom were on deck waving their white caps at us. The submarines, on the other hand, slip darkly past,
escorted by Navy and Coast Guard boats, on their silent and spooky way to the octopus’s garden under the sea. It’s impossible for me to imagine life in a submarine, and what sort of person would choose that life. Outside, eternal darkness, crushing pressure, and deadly chill, with no way out. Inside, tiny spaces, a nuclear reactor, artificial light, recycled air and water, and, I suppose, nonexistent privacy.
No sunsets for those submariners, no sunrises. No salt breezes, no flowers, no cats. I wonder what inspires a person to choose this life. You can read the fascinating details of life in the octopus’s garden here.