Little Temples
Anyone who walks the shore
along Little Dume has seen them. Depending upon the tide, the winds, or the
urge for a kid to knock ‘em down with a kayak paddle or a baseball bat, they
may stand for days at a time. Like little temples they stand, equidistant apart
among the many boulders and rocks at their base, these “rock sculptures” demand
one’s attention.

 On this particular Memorial
Day the energy is peaking.  Later, the full
moon will rise near midnight, and for now, a couple of hundred yards out, a quiet
swell builds. Folks are gloriously happy in their swimsuits and wet suits in
the water. The little temples seem to bless them with their somewhat monolithic
presence. Some believe the little temples encourage ample surf.

It’s a free look, art from
nature not for sale, a peek at the mysteries of architectural laws, a
meditation for the one who builds them.

I had never seen “Mr. P.”
actually build the sculptures until this particular day. He picks up a rock and
carries it to an ordained place on the sand. Like most endeavors, and certainly
artistic ones, this artist experiments with his medium: hoisting and placing
rocks of different sizes, weights, and shapes. He adeptly places one onto
another, the largest at the base, the smallest last—on top. “Mr. P.” moves
slowly but deliberately like an experienced stonemason.  In harmony, the sculpture does not succumb to
gravity, lose balance, or topple over.

Three little girls come
scrambling down the boulders to the beach. One carries a soccer ball. It is a
long way from the boulders to the sand for these little girls and “Mr. P.’
gallantly offers a hand. They thank him and together approach the little temple.
One of the girls plucks the top rock from the sculpture. He looks at me and knowingly
smiles. THIS HAPPENS! Our gazes return to the sculpture. The little
girl has replaced the stone. By now, she and the others are running down the
beach kicking the soccer ball in front of them.

The little temples fascinate,
and are there for all to see. I was sorry I did not have my camera but went
back the next day. Only two were left.

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