Admittedly, 2011 was a lean year for Dolphin Address. Fortunately, I can blame myself. To be more precise, it's all due to my kidneys. Last year I swam no more than four times. As soon as I am in the water, I get icy shivers that last up to three days and particularly nights. Living in the van became hard to do. Deeply wrapped in sleeping bags and chronically with two hot water bottles I could get warm at most but hardly remain so. Fortunately and for the time being I hibernate in a real house, with electricity and running water! In April I'm going back to the meadow as that remains my actual home. For now I'm comfy and can do other things. Like I got my printer from under Willem's bed. And have run off photos which I shared with family and friends. Also I have added texts. These are no descriptions of photos. Everyone can see what's on those. They have become word-sculptures. Every sentence mostly tells itself. Originally they are observations, often written early in the morning, when the sluice doors of sleep are still half-open and dreamy faraways unhurriedly fill or fade with the tides.
On this stage everything becomes an event, whether a clear rippillion laps in murmur or a full rainbow spans the horizon. There always is something. And it all fits together. So lovely if you can understand the world around you and there's always something talking back. The rush of the ocean faces no fences.
The early sun lights up the foam and chisels shades into the waves. A random riding ridge is brushed by a touch of air. A world too stout for fantasy, of beauty reason would forbid.
Thus there is always something to discover. That cormorants dive into the surf because the swirl reveals the sand eels, that a dolphin controls its buoyancy by the water displacement of its body, that gulls drop sea urchins on the rocks to enjoy the content unstung. There is no end to the abundance of the ocean.
For a somewhat more extensive photo collection go to www.behance.net/janploeg
Meanwhile I have been a little operated upon. I got a tube stuck into my belly, through which I pour a kind of salt solution out and in. I had suggested seawater as I have that in abundance, but the doctor did not approve. The prognosis promises that I will feel a lot better in about a month. It's also possible to wrap my belly waterproof so I can even swim again.
I faithfully frequent Pollenawatch and not seldom do we happen upon each other. But the water is murky from stormy weather and you see more Dusty from the rocks than when you enter the water. Then I ruminate about the bygone days with the crystal clear water through which you saw Her Silvership flash effortlessly, through which under water you saw her coming from afar, not at random, but to you, yourself, personally.
Sometimes with a strand of seaweed across her beak, with the pebble upon which it had rooted still attached. Sometimes with a shred of plastic and for you to guess if this was a gift or a silent reprimand. Or that she just wanted to join in. That may have been her reason to swim that often in Doolin harbour last summer. There she enjoyed some attention, the tourists hung themselves overboard to see her. But she likes most when you come to her in the water.
Maybe a boat that involves her with the swimmers at P'watch would be a rich combination but naturally not if the owner moors her Boat out of swimming distance so it's no good to anyone. Who knows, maybe the wonders won't be out of the water world after all.