River Art

The dock building continues. I have enjoyed so very much getting to know this crew, watching them work together as a team, seeing how much respect they have for each other and the talents each bring to the table. To me, it's fascinating. I would apply for a job with them if a) I had any natural balance, b) I didn't get motion sickness, and c) I were younger. I'll post some of my favorite photos of the OVER 1,200 TAKEN one day. But, not today.

Today, the concrete truck arrived and I watched in awe as they poured the top and bottom levels. Many photos ensued. At one point I walked over to my neighbor's dock several houses down to take photos. Sometimes the crew was just standing about waiting for the next concrete truck. That's when I'd take photos of the water, a passing barge, flying ducks, whatever struck my fancy or caught my eye.


It was a clear, cold morning. Freezing, actually. My hands were red, my nose running, my eyes watering in the frigid winds. Still, the sun was rising and the sky cobalt blue. The water was beautiful and hypnotic during those times of waiting. It was very quiet. I took several photos from my neighbor's dock, pointing into the waters, at the rocks, at the reflections.


I admit, these are my favorite photos of the day. They look very much like paintings or lithographs. But they're simply photos.


One of my favorite posters as a hippie college kid was one that said "Stand Still and Look Until You Really SEE." The poster looked like a little girl picking flowers, but if you looked closely you saw that the flowers were really people. I thought that cool at the time, and very profound.


That poster came to mind today when I was processing these photos. Stand still and look until you really see. What do YOU see?

The Perch of Kings

A casualty of progress are the gnarled trees cascading off our 25' riverbanks that serve as perches for Kingfishers and other waterfowl. Kingfishers are easily recognizable by their rat-a-tat-tat-tat calls on the wing, long beak and Sting-like haircuts. Their steel blue feathers, russet breast markings and dapper white collar lends a debonair appearance to the riverside, much like wearing a tuxedo to dine at a local catfish restaurant.

This striking tree branch is now serving as safe haven for fishes in the waters downstream, as the tree had to be removed for dock building. The Kingfisher will have a higher perch when the dock is completed, but the dock's steel posts can't compete with this crooked branch for natural beauty. Ah, progress.

Excitement!

Monday morning we wake to a deep rumbling sound out on the river. A bright white tug is pushing a short barge close to shore. They stop and lower those huge pilings into the soft mud below; the tug disengages, then turns westward leaving a crew of men. They're building our neighbor's dock.

I've been spellbound. The process has completely captivated me this week. I've taken close to 400 photos and the crew has only just begun. They're still working on the lower level's iron skeleton. Watching them weld the iron is amazing. These guys have it down to a science; it's a well-rehearsed theater. I promise my blog won't turn into a play-by-play, but I'll update you from time to time.

The upper shot shows their arrival and the lower shot is how they left it before the rains came today. The tug came back, hitched up the barge and headed for the safety of the bay during our storms. They'll be back when the lake calms down.

So this post isn't about buckeyes or butterflies, buttercups or baking, babies or birds, but it sure is bodaciously fun! (...to me, anyway!)

The Lake

"A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature. It is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature. The fluviatile trees next the shore are the slender eyelashes which fringe it, and the wooded hills and cliffs around are its overhanging brows." Henry David Thoreau

I love living on water. The sights and smells and noises have become part of me. This place has given me inspiration, unleashed creativity and catapulted me out of myself, revealing the spiritual well within my soul. I cannot imagine another place that fits me better than here, on the water, surrounded by nature.

Introducing the New Spring Line...

aesculus pavia

The sloping bank of our lot that leads from the house to a 30' cliff to Wheeler Lake, part of the Tennessee River system, is called a riparian zone. That is the official term for the margin of land that lies between a flowing surface of water and the upper grounds. Plant communities along these river margins are called riparian vegetation. These plants are critical for maintaining the health of our river system and influence aquatic ecosystems.

I learned about riparian zones at a TVA seminar last year, and consider myself a fledgling student of the subject. Check out wikipedia if you're interested to learn more. However, I find that plants along these strips are usually vastly different from plants on higher ground. Although I'm a native North Alabamian, Red Buckeyes weren't known to me until I moved onto the river system. They are here in abundance along the river banks alongside various native hydrangeas and laurels that also bloom in spring. Red Buckeyes can be found alongside wooded roadways and within our woods, but they tend to be found near streams or a water source.

These small native trees start out as a rich, mahogany-colored seed wrapped up in a luscious textured seedpod. These seeds are supposedly bitter and poisonous, but of late I've had a hard time finding any to photograph. This, above, was taken several years ago.

The bare winter branches are very straight and a pale gray. In early spring they are dotted with fat, light green buds which open up into the most alien-looking formations. From the center a long, multi-faceted flower bud emerges from which come the eventual red blooms.

The blooms last a long time, and attract the spring migration hummingbirds, offering them immediate food after their long journey.

As mentioned before, most folks here are not as enamoured with the Red Buckeyes. They are deciduous, and by mid-summer their leaves begin to dim and yellow, some dropping. Japanese Beetles like to eat the leaves as well, turning them into skeletons. However, I have a soft spot for these trees.

Imagine my delight our first spring here, waking to a riot of red blooms cascading down our bank. And they were free. Planted by God. Hummingbirds love them. They wave in the wind and hold my soil on these sharp slopes. We've been through hurricanes and tornadoes, torrential downpours and even an earthquake since we've been here and we've not lost an inch of real estate while those who have stripped their land have to purchase more rip rap in hopes of not losing any more.