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Words won’t come in places of in-between.  Nothing grows in salty marshes, nothing moves on windless waters.  Still and unbreaking ocean waves weave and meander in time, as a thoughtless mind goes sliding by.  Away from hopes and dreams and savvy sayings; clever turns of phrases get trampled under feet. . . eventually.  And we all pass. . . eventually.  And words are spoke. . . eventually.  But what’s to say in this time of in-between?  Better yet, what’s to hear?  What is being said, and is it for this time or another mind I’m still yet to be?

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[Dan Lowe]

Kasey, even in the most unlikely places, there is growth unexpected. For instance: Salt-water Cordgrass

Spartina alternaflora (known as Salt-water Cordgrass or Spartina A) has a powerful root system just like Phragmites. Its roots spread beneath the ground and grows to trap silt forming in the salt marsh. This plant gets its nutrition by the endless tides rolling in and out of the marsh which floods Salt-water Cordgrass. It grows on the outer rim of salt marsh bogs, because it needs to be covered with salt water twice a day.

Even in the midst of the in-between or the underneath, there is often times much more going on than we care to admit or care to seek out. For instance, the saltwater cordgrass has its powerful root system. And flat oceans are still, not the waves. Which again, many waves are caused from underneath the waters. So, what's going on in the underneaths of the inbetweens? What is being said? Is the silence so strong that it's an audible nothingness?