Personal News: July 2006 Archives

Habemus Canem and The Eye

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My Latin is dreadful; however, my new dog is wonderful. A stray found by another, named Lucky (Sam has decided to keep the name), a delightful and sweet companion. A bit of a shock going from alone to caring for a baby. But that's okay. Linda and Sam back soon.

later this evening: The Eye another Korean suspense film. Heard it was licensed by Tom Cruise and associates to be made into another dreadful American rehash. Let's see what they're hashing up.

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Another pristine stretch of sand, arcing out between Naples and Fort Myers. From this beach Fort Myers and Sanibel are clearly visible. Even more clearly visible, our friend Limulus polyphemus, sand dollars, coconuts, and clouds. An osprey's nest, roseate spoonbills and Scissortail Kites.


From this beach a long spit of shallow beach leads out into the channel. Walking there it is only knee deep, but in the waters two huge fish--sea bass or groupers--suggest that other large, less friendly fish might also find their way between the spit and the beach.


Walking back, a live whelk, and six or seven species of sea-bird. All on this lonely, lovely island.

And a gift from the sea


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Proud to Be an American

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A great egret--distinguishable sometimes by the size and with some certainty in the adults by having black feet as opposed to yellow feet for the Snowy Egret--struts his stuff in the back-island wash. Beautiful birds, intent on their courses, unconcerned about their intersection with humanity because they can end the conversation with a single flight.

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Door into Everywhere



There are places, quiet places ringed around with time. Still standing, still. Quiet backwaters of places that are hidden just out of sight. A thousand cars pass before even one person notices a cream-colored building and says, "What do you suppose that is?"

And what that is opens the door to the past where those who made the buildings and peace that surrounds live still, working, living, loving, moving forward, carrying on their shoulders the quiet they have built--building a barrier so that the highway does not intrude even when one stands close.

The still pool that is the Koreshan Unity with its Planetary House, its rectiliniator, and its Fort-Myers-beach triumph which showed the world how turned in upon itself it was--how really very closed the universe is calms and cools. Inviting the weary traveler to "jest set a spell" and see what time has fashioned.

And looking into the house where the Planetary Court ruled, serene, matronly, ordering all things in the community and directing its work, its recreation, its contribution to the world at large--a door into everywhere opening in a field--opening up the treasures of the past and quieting the dread of the day. The gift of peace and slow silence. The still of the night in the brightness of day. The slow bell tolls to call to dinner and each ring moves out to be quickly muffled in the vast green and in the buildings still standing, still breathing the past and distilling it into the present. The still of time, the door into everywhere.


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Tigertail Beach

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South of Marco Island, the coast of Florida sheers off, like unraveling satin, with threads of islands that form a myriad of inlets, rivulets, aits, and channels overarched by the ever present white and red mangrove saplings. The water can be dyed tea-brown by the leaves of these mangroves, and the slender bean-like seeds wash up on the shores of many of the southern beaches.

Long endangered, to these waters have returned small numbers of the American Salt Water Crocodile, the least aggressive, most reclusive members of the crocodile family. Among the intertwined branches of the canopy one finds the nesting sites of the brown pelican. And in the shallows between the islands, anhingas, herons, egrets, woodstorks, and many other kinds of birds. Facing oceanward, some beaches accumulate the fine white sands that the currents bring, and these are, in turn, populated by waving lines of sea oats and other dune grasses that anchor the islands in place.

Standing on the shore of this beach, on the inlet behind the barrier, and looking east one can see the high rise resorts that bring visitors and their money to Marco Island. Behind these towers the puffy, inimitably beautiful clouds of the Florida sky, tinged with grey as if booding over this coastline.

Pass through the shallow channel and climb over the barrier island, following the path made by many feet--the single path--to find the ocean, ice-green, strangely translucent in comparison to the tannic waters of the mangrove swamp. In these shallows, shells of whelks, conchs, clams, snails, schools of fish smaller than tadpoles flash and turn as one.

The gentle waves lap as though the shore bordered a lake rather than the ocean. The water is warm and cool. Light dancing surface-ice green waters are transformed to fathomless depths with the passing of the clouds.

This is the envoie. Beyond this the ocean to the west, and to the south, the accumulation of that tattered fabric that is the coast of Florida, lovely, fragile, changeable, glorious--as different each moment as only time and tide can be.

Nursery to the young of birds, fish, shrimp, and sea turtle, the estuary that is the wealth of the sea, here exposed to the ancient rhythms of the sea and adjusting to the newer rhythms of human life. Holding breath, in anticipation of the worst, or in hope for the best--whatever the cause--breathlessly beautiful.


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About this Archive

This page is a archive of entries in the Personal News category from July 2006.

Personal News: June 2006 is the previous archive.

Personal News: August 2006 is the next archive.

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