Tennessee

Tennessee.
Rolling hills, rock walls.
The Smokey Mountains.
Dragonflies.

Clear, cold mountain streams
pour down mountainsides and
shoot through boulders
tumbling rapidly, smoothing rocks
into fascinating natural creations.

Escape to nature and restore your soul.
Get back in touch with your inner spirit.
Breathe in the fresh air,
soak your feet in the chilly waters,
and take delight in Life.

Vacation

The week before all hell broke loose in the Southland we were vacationing on the beach.

I love beaches of all sorts but my favorites tend to be those along the Atlantic. Shells in abundance, driftwood, fossils, sea glass, shark's teeth and all manner of treasures come ashore, best found at low tide when the waters are far, far away.

Walking the shell line is my beach-time passion. Not one for hot sun you'll find me walking the lines early mornings and late afternoons "assuming the position," cup or bucket in hand, leaning over in hopes of finding another olive shell, cockle shell, calico scallop, angel wing, baby's ear, whelk and other beauties. I have even found seahorses lodged amid tangles of kelp, sadly no longer living. Once I found a fossilized sea biscuit which are millions of years old. Egg casings of various creatures wash ashore alongside the odd jellyfish. Each finding piques my interest in the ocean, stoking the embers of my curiosity.

Skimming the crest of waves were the ubiquitous brown pelicans and gulls but also a few surprises - cormorants and swallows. Various long-legged shorebirds skimmed wet sands for tasty meals, comically avoiding waves at the last second.

The weather wasn't sunny-beach-perfect, thank goodness. I am so odd that way but I prefer beaches with clouds and wind with waves crashing high and hard. The ocean changes color depending upon the skies, which I adore. The deep grayed blue green of a stormy ocean is one of my favorite colors. And yes, it reminds me of my lake albeit a "bit" more dramatic.

Walking to the beach that first day I could smell the ocean before I saw it. I threw my arms open wide and gulped in the salty taste, laughed at the sky, ran to the water and put let the salty waves crash upon my toes. Life is GOOD.

More to come.....

Above the Waterfall
Sevierville, Tennessee
Sony Cybershot
July 2003

Hubs and I took the offspring, at that time eleven years old (oh my!), to Sevierville, Tennessee, to visit some relatives and friends. Our friends, Steve and Beth, live in an artistic jumble of a house nestled - I swear - in a hollow. Steve turns scrap metal into pieces of art, which can be seen throughout their yard of rambling perennials. Beth's heart lies in social work, working with children. Their home is an angular frame home Steve built piece by piece, backed into a "V" of a mountain. You can practically touch each hill through windows on both sides. Wild maidenhair ferns and ferns of all manner grow wild along the mountainside and act as natural outdoor curtains. My favorite part of their home is the skeletal remains of a piano Steve playfully mounted on the outside wall. Mallets are close at hand and the children loved to rap the strings, making their own rusty music.

Sevierville is just down the road a piece from Gatlinburg, the tourist's Mecca and not my cup of tea at all. Sevierville is a calm place filled with winding roads and artist's cabins and holds a bit of magic. I adore it.

My trio and the Hubs oldest daughter and her family met us here for a long playtime weekend. One of the places Steve and Beth took us to was a local water playground called "The Y." Here, the children (big and small, old and young!) could tube down a low, tumbling waterfall. They would hike a trail far up into the woods, set their tube down into the frigid water which would gently take them down to the waterfall where they would bump and spin downward, yelling with glee, only to do it again and again. When they tired of that they would swim across the narrow ribbon of water to a huge cliff on the other side, climb up, up, up, up, up and jump into the water. Ick to THAT I say but to the kids it became a Badge of Courage.

I did none of that. Instead, I explored paths, picked up rocks and took some photos. Above the waterfall was this little waterfall, above. There I sat surrounded by the sound of tumbling water, the laughter of children way off in the distance. My bare feet played in the icy mountain stream and it was one of the happiest times I've ever had. The entire visit was Bliss. Thanks, Steve and Beth, for such wonderful memories.

Sense of Place

Shannon and Jessica walking toward our rental from the community dock that fronted the salt marsh. Ours was the first yellow building from the right. There were very few people in the area all week. Rentals stood empty and dark, roadways were lightly traveled, beaches were sparsely populated. PERFECT, in my book but clearly the current economic woes were showing.

From the community dock one could launch a kayak and travel all the way to the ocean. Kayla and Lance had a wonderful time. However, there was no formal "launch" and one had to physically lower one's self down to the kayak. Not possible for most of us and was even difficult for them. Still, what a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

Me, Jessica and Shannon would wait and watch, and bring them water when they were finished playing in the marsh.

Shannon enjoying the view, looking at wildlife and pondering.

Shannon spied these mussels attached to various plants in the shallow marsh. I'm assuming they're a mussel of some sort, anyway.

From our northern-most deck, where we spent the afternoons cooling down and sipping wine, sharing stories about our day. This deck overlooked a wide expanse of shrubs and weathered, wind blown live oaks. These snags attracted all manner of birds and dragonflies. The house beyond the oaks fronts the beach and was a landmark when we walked the shores. The architecture is typical for the area. The houses were amazing - most were brand new, huge and empty....and for sale or rent.

Sunset over the salt marsh.

Field of live oaks as seen from our second floor deck.

The southernmost deck is where we enjoyed morning coffee and solitude, reading and listening to the marsh birds, the call of grackles and hum of insects. This afternoon a storm was brewing. We had storms all around us the entire time but never had any rain. We were in a bowl of sunshine. There's that phrase again...but that's what we were in!

It was hot and humid, wreaking havoc with our cameras. Condensation was common and this was the usual first shot! Hope this gives you more of a sense of place. We really enjoyed the peace and beauty of this spot. However, being adventuresome we are already planning our NEXT family reunion elsewhere so we can explore another section of this awesome country of ours. Any suggestions? Next, I'll show you some birds & critters that I spied and captured - digitally, of course!

Sunrise on the Beach

Sunrises are always beautiful regardless of where one is viewed. However, to me they seem more magical when there's water involved. Especially dynamic coastal waters with waves and foam, splashing and loud and salty with reflections of color and light that shifts with the rise and fall of the tide.

Jess and I rose at 5:15am and switched on the coffee maker which we'd set up the night before to save time. Sand colored coffee cups in one hand, cameras around our necks we struck off for the beach in the early morning gloom. Not another soul was stirring. The waking beach and ocean were grayed violet blue, the sky the color of a pale opal. A diminishing thunderhead to the east blocked the sunrise for the longest time.

The opposite direction demanded attention as a vase of blue pushed upward into the sky, water and sand reflecting the spectacle in symphony.

Jessica was spellbound, meditative. I left her alone to her thoughts as she stared eastward awaiting the sun's arrival.

The scattering, dark clouds began exhibiting pink-silver linings, a glorious announcement that things were about to change.

The sun breaks free of the clouds and the beach lights up...

...as do the waves, water and foam.

We both stop walking and watch the show, committing the smells and sounds to memory.

As the waters dance...

...and create joyful beauty.

Soak it in.

On Vacation

Good friend Larry surf fishing at Holden Beach, North Carolina
1985, taken with my Yashica FX-2 35mm

We'll be at North Topsail Beach, North Carolina until June 21st.
Enjoy this fun little beach poem I found on the Internet.

Beach Glass
Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
ot touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.

I love walking on the beach in the early, early morning and late, late afternoon looking for beach glass, seashells, driftwood and spying pieces of things I can't identify. I love standing at the edge of the ocean, waves foaming around my toes reclaiming the sand beneath. I love closing my eyes and hearing the sound of gulls and grackles interspersed with the booming waves and laughter of children. I love watching the shrimp boats gently rocking, rows of nets on either side gathering treasures. I love the endless horizon and the storms that blow strong from the ocean. I love looking at the stars at night as effervescent ocean waves lick the sand.

I hate men and women who plunder and ruin our seashores and wetlands and precious wildlife out of ignorance and greed. Where do they vacation, do you suppose? Do they park their yachts beside the oil derricks in the ocean and dive into the waters from those great iron structures? Mind, I'm all about commerce and making a living, but not at the expense of our planet. Think, people, think. This is our Only and Forever Earth. Take care of her. This is my prayer for the Gulf of Mexico, its boundaries and shorelines and its residents, both wild and domestic.

Rant over. I'm off to pack for the trip. Take care of yourselves.