There’s very little question in mind that “Starfish-on-the-toast” was sung about the Northern California coast. I’m still not sure whether Donovan knew that this is what he was singing about. I have to suppose that he did not, though I do believe that Donovan may have spent some time in this area of California.

I’m privileged to have a coast of my own which answers to the descriptions of several of Donovan’s songs; and I think that I know it better for having received the gift of Donovan’s music. I might otherwise never have observed how the clouds tumble in the amazing flying sky as the gulls pillage. A fan faring, trumpetingly small daffodil might have remained none other than small. When the tide recedes, I would have not have ever noticed the old men in tweed, their beards intermingling with the seaweed on the rocks.

The California coast that I keep in my mind is made richer by this shared appreciation so craftily turned into loving descriptions. I wonder what other places in my day to day existence are waiting for me to see them in a fuller beauty. I suspect that it is as many as are loved by someone; it would help if that someone were as good at putting their love into words as Donovan. Me, I don’t think I’ll ever get over my first place-love.

“Starfish-on-the-toast,” by Donovan

Fine rock pooling coast This starfish-on-the-toast The men in the crabbing boats they cry

Far across the harbor ‘Round the sandy cove The shepherd wi’ his pipe and sheep he drove

Big cloud tumbling high The amazing flying sky How the gulls are pillaging the town

Fan faring daffodilly Trumpetingly small All along the bathing hut wall

Far along the empty beach The tide has left a world Old men in tweed find study there

Holding whelks and periwinkles Tingling in his hand Little does he know they hold him too

Fine rock pooling coast This starfish-on-the-toast The men in the crabbing boats they cry

Far across the harbor ‘Round the sandy cove The shepherd wi’ his pipe and sheep he drove