Hello

I seem to have writer's block.  Possibly even photography block.  What I am clearly having is hip block, as my left one is experiencing technical difficulties keeping me off the beach for a bit.  Still, there are tons of images taken since our arrival at my disposal, lots of experiences not shared and ideas not brought forth to my blog.  My poor, sad, neglected blog that so desperately needs a change.

We are fortunate to be living close to a beach.  Photographing sunrises has been a favorite activity of mine since our arrival last March.  Walking along this pier, watching the fishermen and women hauling in all manner of creatures (and letting most of them go), staring at the waves crashing beneath me, marveling at cannonball jellyfishes, sharks and stingrays cruising around, avoiding the pelicans and gulls who think they're going to get fed, then leaving through the store, buying locally made ice cream, is such a treat.

Riding the ferry brings intense joy.  No matter how many times we passenger the Cape Fear River ferry to Southport and back again the trip never grows boring.  Never.  Ever.  Such a peaceful calm.  Watching the pelicans, gulls and terns swoop and dive for lunch, and the gulls pacing the ferry hoping for a handout is so cool.  Occasionally dolphins will mirror the ferry for a bit before disappearing toward the mouth of the river into the ocean.  Once, we spied a bald eagle.  There are always sailboats, fishing boats and even ships to watch.

The salt marshes lend an exotic, mysterious, amazingly beautiful palette of seasonal colors.  Bright greens in the spring, purples and browns toward summer ending in the luscious golds of autumn.  I am in love with the salt marshes with its crabs and grackles, herons and egrets, snakes and oysters, dragonflies and damselflies.  The salt marshes are the magical fringe between brackish waters and the maritime forest housing creatures and plants unique to that environment. 

The coolest thing EVER is that we have our own turtle nest incubating at the end of our walkway to the beach!  These little guys are due to hatch sometime in October.  I hope and pray I will be here for their birth and slipping and sliding into the ocean.  How incredible!  What a miracle! 

So I'm pondering my blog again and considering even changing to Wordpress, thanks to a creative genius friend and blogger who encourages that direction.  Blogger always seems to have spacing problems, unless it's the blog-ee (me!) and not Blogger's fault.  No matter how tight I make spaces in between photos and text there are sometimes these large spaces that I can't make go away.  But, since it's just a blog let's just Let It Be.  For now.  So that's my random blog post for now!  I hope you are all doing well - I really miss you all!

Brought to you by the letters "E" and "A"....

After a five week journey to North Alabama helping family through surgeries and sneaking in a few visits along the way, I'm back at the beach.  There's an odd disconnect one experiences after being gone for so long.  In order to find myself again there has been lots of sleeping and simply "being," a couple of early evening Toddies on the Beach with the hubby, and yesterday...my first beach walk.

We've had an abundance of rainfall the past few days.  Along with the rain drops came lightning and thunder, north winds and heavy seas.  After the heat of early August I welcomed this change with open arms...and bare feet for my first serious walk.  My goal was the green rocks of Fort Fisher.  However, the universe had something completely different in mind for me.

Trash

Stepping onto the wet sand off our walkway the first thing I noticed were lines of beach flotsam and jetsam deposited by the sea.  It was just past high tide, and these markers were high spots of deposits.  There, amid the bits of shells, seaweed and bits of grasses were cigarette butts.  Leaning down to pick up the first one I spotted 5 more.  This continued for about a hundred yards south.

I never made it to the green rocks. After about 20 minutes my collecting bag was nearly full.  Back aching, hip complaining I turned back to do a sweep on the way back and collected even more.  North winds blowing my hair out of my eyes I could see more trash, even watching the waves deposit more as I walked.  It was staggering, the amount of garbage.  A personal best...er, worst for Kure Beach.  More tourists on a smoking beach = more cigarette butts.  

Kure Beach Trash Pickup: August 15, 2013;  1.4 pounds of trash
1 hour over a few hundred yards.  Mid-afternoon, after storms and rainfall at high tide with heavy seas. 

10 Children's toys
Over 50 bits and pieces of paper and plastic
2 tubes of chapstick
8 plastic cigarillo tips
1 complete empty bottle of water
1 Landshark beer bottle cap
1 plastic spoon
The letters "E" and "A" from something
1 quarter
22 bottle caps
448 cigarette butts

That last one bears repeating:  448 CIGARETTE BUTTS

This is plain nasty.  I'm going to buy medical gloves for these beach pickups it's becoming so gross.  This time I did receive pay for my efforts - one quarter. 

I leave you with a pretty photograph of how a beach should look, sans trash:

...isn't this better?

Beach Colors

There's nothing more colorful than a beach town.  People have to paint more often because of the sunshine, salty air and constant winds.  Here, their chosen colors are bright and cheerful, boldly standing out in the clear sunshine, stark against bright white clouds and blue skies. 

Bright colors lure in patrons more readily than do dark, brooding colors for who wants to brood at a beach?  People themselves don straw hats bestowed with flowing scarves (protection, of course), loud t-shirts and shorts.  They fly colorful kites, lie upon neon beach towels, schlep dazzling totes overflowing with flashy beach goodies that rivals a box of 64 Crayola crayons.  Their very skin glows from the sun's tint, shiny with oils and lotions.  One finds more smiles per capita at any beach town.  One simply can't be brooding and frowning at a beach.  It's simply not possible.  (...cranky children are the exception...)

Salty air, fresh seafood, children laughing, sunshine blazing, gulls calling, waves crashing - a beach town has a way of lightening ones load, carving out grins and cleansing lungs and souls. 

After living in such a bright, happy place can I ever go back to town living?  We are pondering that very thing.  Should we stay or should we go? 

I miss some things about town living, but would feel a hole left by the colorful houses and palm trees.  Most of all, I would mourn the loss of vast stretches of sunshine and clouds.  Here, my soul has been lifted and my heart has found a new song. 

Challenge

 "The trash and litter of nature disappears into the ground with the passing of each year, but man’s litter has more permanence."

John Steinbeck

It's past time to get off my butt and get back to picking up other people's nasty butts.  Cigarette butts, that is.  They are everywhere.  Flicked out of windows, rubbed out underneath flip flops, stuck bottom-side-up in the sand.  The smell of tobacco rivals the scent of salt water as this beautiful beach remains a smoking beach.

The determination to begin this project again comes at the urging of friend and new Life Coach, Bo Mackison.  Bo is trying to jump start my creative again.  We agreed that this project is a good way to get my feet wet...and sandy...and do some good.

Consider these statistics, all of which vary slightly according to sources.  I imagine these decomp estimates must be taken with a grain of salt.  Bright, hot sunshine and fresh air hastens the process while junk buried underneath sand and soil or waves enjoy a much longer process of decomposition...if ever.  Still, all are lengthy regardless:  (oceanconnection.org, thegoodhuman.com)

Paper towel - 2-4 weeks
Paper bag - 1 month
Apple core - 2 months
Cigarette butts - 1-5 years
Milk cartons - 5 years
Plastic six-pack holders - 400 years
Orange and banana peels - 2-5 weeks
Balloons - 6 months
Plastic coated paper - 6 months
Tinned steel can - 5 years
Plastic bags -  20-1,000 years
Aluminum cans - 50 years
Wool socks - 1-5 years
Plastic bottles - 450 years
Nylon string - 600 years
Leather - 50-80 years
Glass bottles - 1,000 years

My friend, Danielle, at It Starts With Me has been logging trash and cigarette butts for quite some time now.  My intentions to help her came from a good spot in my heart but I was simply unable to carry the action forward in positive fashion.  I'm coming clean.  In more ways than one.  I mean to do this.  It's good for me and it's good for the ocean, for our planet.  Moreover, it makes me feel like I'm doing something, however small my contribution. 

Sea turtles cannot distinguish between a free-floating plastic bag and a jellyfish, its usual diet.  Birds and turtles, dolphins and whales - creatures of sea and of earth - are filling up on our refuse and dying all around this planet of ours.  And we call ourselves sentient beings, humans.

Edited to "Fossils" by Aoife O'Donovan

Happy Anniversary!

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

The quote above, taken from The Hobbit, has proven to be my truth here at the beach.  We came here to rest our souls after the ladder experience.  This process, this healing time, has had the odd effect of erasing my creative.  It completely disappeared, instead becoming a blank white page. White noise.  A vast nothingness.  These days shooting photographs doesn't come easy but I do it anyway.  It may only be a sunrise, a wave, a pelican but I do it in order to remember the process, to keep my skills as fresh as possible.  Quite simply, oddly, photography is not the passion that it was Before Ladder.  At least for now.

Today, March 8, marks the one year anniversary of our arrival at Kure Beach, North Carolina.

Our first few months here were idyllic.  Spring 2012 was pleasant with abundant sunshine.  Lugging chairs to the beach we would simply sit and stare out over the ocean, watch the birds, watch the fishermen and locals who walked along the sparcely attended shoreline.  Once, we witnessed the process of evaporation - moisture rising off the ocean, cooling the air - and felt its immediate effect.  Sometimes we would talk but more often our companionable silence stretched long and deep.  Sinew by sinew my back, shoulders and neck relaxed, gradually, bringing daily noticeable differences.  Sleep was deep and sound.  Solitary meditative beach walks matched the rhythm of the tides - slow, deliberate, silent.  Collecting beach treasures became my new passion. 

And why?  Why collect bits of nature?  Why do I relish the feel of a barnicle-crusted old shell in my hand?  Why must I collect fossilized teeth, bone and barbs? Why do I feel the need to display them, touch them over and over, inhale their briny scent?

I think it's because I'm collecting pieces of myself.

Treasures that interest me are not the usual shells but those that are worn.  Pieces, even. I was worn upon arriving here, and in pieces. 

Initially, I became passionate about pieces of clam shells.  I didn't know at first what they were, but stripes of deep purple, lavender and mauve undulating through smooth creamy pieces caught my eye. I found one.  Then another, and another, and another. Before long I had quite the collection, and they are now proudly displayed in clear glass vases and bowls.

Clam shells are common along the shoreline but they aren't particularly pretty.  Clunky, brown things like a horse's hoof can be readily found any given day.  However, these clunky brown shells contain a miracle within.  As the surf and currents pound them up over time they break up, the brown parts break off and the inner bits of shell are polished by the ocean and sand into these creamy purply bits of loveliness. 

I like to think that's happening to me, to my soul.  The brown, clunky, tired, weary soul I dragged to this place is gradually breaking up, being polished, exposing a soft loveliness inside.

Having always been active and creative, goals were penned before coming here.  More photography, volunteer with the turtle project, write a book, join a land trust, journal and meditate, learn yoga and Reiki. 

However, what I did instead was simply stop.  Stop.  I stopped and I breathed.  At first, my lungs always felt like I'd been swimming when all I did was walk the beach.  The fresh salt air scrubbed my lungs.  Walking serpentine sands strengthened my back, my legs and I turned tan and my hair lighter. My long-neglected body finally felt firmer, felt better, felt healthier, felt rested.

So it has been a year and I think I'm finished resting. I'm beginning to feel the pull of my creative and wonder what direction it will take me.  It's time to begin filling in that blank white page.

Beach Treasures

My personal goals for this beach adventure are simple.  Rest, eat healthy, walk abundantly, explore unceasingly, breathe deeply, reconnect with myself and my spouse.  We have been extraordinarily blessed with visits by friends and family since arriving so in between various Me Times I've enjoyed this place through their eyes as well.

A favorite time remains the early mornings.  Long, early walks with Baylee followed by long solitary walks on the beach picking up treasures.  Amazing finds continue to be these fabulous green rocks that the wild, wild sea throws up onto the beach.  Some were too large to carry back, sadly, but the ones I could manage were hoisted under one arm and slogged back to the house, soaking my t-shirt and making my arms quiver with exertion.  What fun!  Free rocks!  Free BEAUTIFUL rocks!  I'm saving up for a rock garden that I'm designing in my head.

This is the first one that I found, all nestled among the dunes next to our walkway. It's a chaos of blues and greens with what I thought to be rusty places embedded throughout.

Upon closer inspection these appear to be fossilized areas of some sort.  Still, there is rust or something there.  I purchased a rock and minerals book to help me identify these rocks but no such luck.  I need a degree in geology simply to understand what they're trying to get through to me.  I'm as dense as a ... rock.  I have scads of these rocks, various shapes and sizes lining the front hallway just waiting for their place to be created.

Some have barnacles crusted on them.

They are so beautiful.
(Blogger refuses to let me center this...go figure...)

This one is small but spectacular.  The camera just can't do it justice.  Shades of chartreuse with these same rusted fossilized places.

I see a face.  Can you? 

When there are no rocks to be found I pick up bits of beach stuff like these bits of petrified wood, likely from the gazillion shipwrecks that line the eastern coast.  At least that's what the romantic in me likes to believe. 

The big surprise has been discovering WWII 50 caliber machine gun bullets driven into the sand by the waves.  These are very heavy, but if the Wild, Wild Sea can hoist boulders onto the beach a "little" bullet wouldn't be a challenge at all.  These come from Fort Fisher, just south of where we are.  During WWII Army soldiers stationed there would fire practice rounds out into the ocean.  Amazingly, these bullets tumbled around the sea and ended up back where they began.

 And then there are the shark's teeth.  These are all fossils, except for the grey one which I suspect is in the process of fossilization.  ?  The two large black blobs at the top are chunks of fossilized turtle carapaces, and the little white circle is a vertebra from some huge fish, likely a shark.  I was quite proud of my little collection until a neighbor showed me a fossilized shark tooth he found that was, I swear, about 4" long and very thick.  Wow.  These are mostly white shark teeth.  Some are too damaged and some too odd for this amateur to identify.

The power of this ocean always thrills me.  Huge waves, powerful currents, the ebb and flow of vast tides, the migrating birds and sea life, the grandeur of this place - I'm blessed to be here.  Looking forward to seeing what Autumn is like on the beach.  Thank you all for hanging in here with me.  I have missed reading your blogs, missed keeping up with you all, and have missed writing and photographing nature.  However, I think my personal tide is still in the process of changing.  Blessing to you all...

Ocean Karma

Beach living usually involves churning sand and foaming waves, soft sounds of laughter muted by the ocean winds, shells and sunrises, cold beers and hot, good reads under canopies, sweat-cooled skin that smells of coconuts.  Simple acts of swimming and walking, watching and enjoying.  Oftentimes, however, events snap you out of your walking Zen and remind you just how wild this place really is.  Recently, several instances of happenstance did just that to me.

We were walking on the pier with friends seeing what the local fishermen/women were pulling in out of the depths.  Young men were wave boarding on the north side of the beach close to the pier.  Kinda like skate boarding but they pop up the waves, skimming flat boards along the surf out into the ocean and pop, pop, pop up the waves, curling around just like skateboards on concrete curls.  Fascinating.  And not only to me.  As we were watching from high above an 8 foot shark - sand or bull - got within mere feet of these boys before the lifeguards blew whistles and closed the beach.  Right behind the shark cruised a massive southern stingray, easily 4 feet wide.  They circled around for some time before disappearing into the gloom.

 

The most wonderful blessing of ALL came the next day.  A completely mind-blowing split second in time.  A happenstance.  A stroke of luck.  A looking in the right place at the right time thing.  A friend and I were sitting on the beach, reading.  Being quiet.  Just us.  The weather was blustery and partly cloudy.  We couldn't put up the canopy for the winds, which were all wild and willy-nilly.  I was reading the latest from a local author titled "Cape Fear Murders," a piece of fiction by an author wanting to be like Janet Evanovitch.  The ocean was the color of bronze, and I found myself fascinated by the waves which came ashore crossing each other from different directions, creating these swirling eddys of foam and ripples as they washed high ashore.  It was so pretty, mesmerizing, zen, meditative.  The waves were coming in from the southwest, basically, and were huge, massive things.  Swimming was impossible.  Shorebirds were feasting in the foam and pelicans and terns were struggling in the winds.  I found it impossible to read because the sight before me was more interesting.  I've got to set this up for you just right because the sighting was very short.  But important.  Life-changing?  Maybe.  Likely.  Anyway, to the thing.  I was just sitting and staring and suddenly a whale breached the surface.  Seriously.  It jumped up in my direction, like heading toward me.  It was right beyond the point where the waves break - very close.  I made some noise and pointed out toward the ocean.  My friend was like, "What?!  What?!"  I couldn't speak, I was so stunned.  Her eyes followed my pointing finger and a few seconds later we saw it's tail fluke flipping up.  My first thought before seeing the tail fluke was that it was a manta ray because of the coloration and lack of dorsal fin, except that it was huge, massive, thick.  The tail fluke cemented the fact that we saw a friggin' whale off the coast of North Carolina.  My friend had her smart phone and did some research.  We determined that it must have been a right whale, although their migration is usually December-March.  Still, whales don't read so they can traverse that path whenever they damn well please. 

I saw a whale.  A.  Whale.  To this day I am dumbfounded.  So, that's the best news, the best time, an event that I can still "feel," if you know what I mean.  Oh, and immediately after the whale breached the surface I looked around and no one else had seen it.  People were playing in the sand, walking the shore, the lifeguard was bored, sunbathers and book readers and shark-teeth finders - not one had noticed the whale.  How many whales have breached while I had my nose pointed toward the sand looking for fossils?  What a sobering thought.

This morning I just happened to wake early and decided to go take sunrise photos.  The sunrise was pretty, and I did get some photos.  However, walking south to check on the two turtle nests just down the beach I spied these little tracks.  Lots of these little tracks.  They look just like the baby turtle track images on my Pleasure Island Sea Turtle Project t-shirt.  I flagged down the sea turtle patrol to ask, but he said they weren't baby turtle tracks.  I'm not sure what they are.  Any idea? That's my footprint lower left for scale.  Beach tracks fascinate me.  Foxes, cats, crabs, birds and now these.  How fun is this? 

Enjoy the happenstances in your life.

Still walking...

It's true - move to the beach and people will come.  And come, and come, and come.  I have loved every single minute with visitors both family and friends, and we've more company a'comin' in August and September.  This is the longest I've gone without blogging in quite some time! 

We've shared sunrises and sunset together, eaten our weight (and then some) in fresh seafood and amazing local produce, traveled the ferry multiple times, strolled charming beach front shops and explored historical areas.  Each visitor brings something new to the overall beach experience.  This is a joyful time I shall always remember.

My personal journey ebbs and flows like the tides.  Sometimes I grow in great, repeating splashes and sometimes my growth curls into itself like a wave sloshes around in an eddy on the beach - going nowhere fast.  That's okay for I recognize the patterns now.  It's just part of the process.

Just like after each passing storm my personal beach changes.  Sometimes I'm all wonky, going up and down like the back of a dragon.  And at other times I'm flat, saving my sands for another day.  At times treasures crowd my sandy feet arousing my curiosity while the next day the sea refuses to share.  I've found fossilized white shark teeth, metal and wood from shipwrecks, the fossilized carapace from a sea turtle, corroded 50 caliber machine gun bullets and other items yet to be identified.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of the hubby's fall off a ladder.  He is doing very well and we are counting our blessings today.  Pop the cork! 

Sunrise

I sat on the beach, one idyllic spring dawn
I was witness to a miracle
A miracle that happens every day
As I gazed out into the Atlantic, to the far horizon
I saw it happening....

And out of nothing, the horizon transmutated
From the deep indigo-black, to an amazing crimson
With splashs of orange, yellow and teal
And then....the most amazing thing of all
This giant red ball of celestial luminosity
Rising out of the ashes of yesterday
A perfectly symmetrical ball of pulsating energy

Transitioning....vermillion to pale crimson to bright saffron yellow
The horizon was on fire with colour
The deeper shades gave way
The sky now totally involved, becomes cerulean blue
The fire subsides, clouds open like the gates of Heaven
Once again, Apollo races across the sky on his Pegasus

Welcoming morning to us mortals
And he brings the giver of life to his place in the sky
That spectacular, luminous sphere of light and boundless energy
Yes, mighty Sol, our benevolent sun, takes his throne
And this miracle, this everyday miracle....Sunrise
Mine eyes have seen the glory!

Poem by Tomahawk

I've been busy with projects and health issues - nothing particularly blog-worthy but each necessary and very time consuming.  And soul consuming.  I hope to get back on track with my life next week.  Please say some prayers and keep your fingers crossed - whatever works for you.  In the meantime please enjoy these sunrise shots and this lovely poem by Tomahawk that fits exactly the way I felt while witnessing this miracle.

It Starts With ME

Easter Sunday

April 8, 2012

This morning Baylee and I rose before the sun, walked to the beach and waited for it's arrival - my own private, personal sunrise celebration on Easter Sunday.  To the right, a gentleman was far down doing the same thing.  To my left, closer to the pier, was another gentleman.  All of us standing still. Waiting.  The sky lightened just before a bright white dot popped over the horizon.  I stood until the sun was free, rising higher into the morning blue, counted my blessings and then headed for home.  Happy Easter.

Today marks the beginning of a new project.  Researching North Carolina habitats, native plants and critters, looking for preserves, gardens and conservation areas I unexpectedly stumbled upon a cause.  A younger, more savvy person thought up this cause and was running like crazy with it. I was ready for something proactive to do and this cause totally fits me.  Basically, it's something I can do when we go to the beach.  In my down time I'll be doing something worthwhile for our planet.  I like that.

Danielle lives to make a difference.  She is the kind of motivated young woman who is truly inspirational - a fabulous role model for kids of all ages.  To say Danielle's blog is about picking up litter would be an understatement.  Words here cannot fully express the depth of her project and how far reaching it is becoming. Her beach butts project got my attention.  How many cigarette butts have I seen on the beach since being here?  Tons.  And how many had I picked up?  Not one.  Until now.

Danielle and I have made contact and I am doing my part for The Daily Ocean.  Above are the fruits of my labor at Fort Fisher's public beach.  In 20 minutes I found 150 cigarette butts and a whole lotta trash....including a bright orange plastic Easter egg. 

For my part I'll walk Carolina Beach, Kure Beach and Fort Fisher to clean up and give her counts as often as possible.  Also, the preserves, conservation sites, gardens, etc. that I visit to blog about I'll do the same.  Danielle is keeping up with all this stuff but I'll also keep a running tab in my sidebar.  Please visit Danielle's blog - I made a BIG BUTTON linking to her in the sidebar - or you can link here to It Starts With Me.  Tell her I sent ya and give her lots of kudos.  She deserves it.

Day on the Beach

Laughing Gull

The past couple of days have been very, very windy.  Still, we braved the breezes to sit on the beach and relax after days of working on the house.  Laughing Gulls think people are meal tickets.  They were sadly mistaken in our case, but at least I got some good shots as they crept closer and closer before flying off in search of better opportunities.

Cormorant

Enjoying the beach yesterday was a challenge.  White caps as far as the eye can see, wind blowing over chairs and tumbling cups and shells and sand.  Still, we insisted because ... well, we could.  This cormorant was a delightful surprise.  Facing the wind he stretched out his wings to dry them in the breeze.  I got fairly close to him but not close enough to scare him off.  It's his beach, too.

The longer we sat the lower the sun sank behind us, casting an unusual glow onto the waves.  The gusts sent choppy ocean waves roaring toward the beach in rapid succession, each on the heels of the other.

We were transfixed and could have sat there for hours if not for the temperature dropping. There was a wind chill cutting through our sweatshirts, for after all, it IS only April.  With lowering temps, rising winds and an ocean spray beginning to hit us it was time to put the camera back into the safety of its case.

But first....just one more shot....

Live Oaks

Baylee and I are back to enjoying our morning walks.  This, above, is our favorite lane.  One block over from our house we enjoy old, gnarled live oaks that frame us as we stroll.  The undergrowth has been cleared, exposing the twisting, stately trunks and thick branches that underlie their beauty

Sunrise always strikes this particular grouping of live oaks.  While Baylee snuffles and shuffles beneath them following invisible trails of deer and rabbit, coyote and raccoon, I stand in awe, completely mystified by the sight.  Live oaks have always been my favorite trees.  These on the coast are smaller and more windswept than others I've witnessed more inland.  That's just an observation. 

Live oaks are found from southeastern Virginia through the lower Coastal Plain of North Carolina and southward.  Plentiful only south of Cape Hatteras, it is a tree with a wide-spreading crown and very gnarled branches.  Usually, these stately branches are covered with Spanish moss, but they also are a key host to resurrection fern.  Live Oaks are evergreen and long-lived, their tough leathery leaves make them extremely resistant to salt spray.  Their roots can withstand occasional storm surge salt waters. 

Live oaks don't grow particularly tall - usually no more than 50 feet in height.  However, it may have a crown span of 100 feet or more and open-grown trees may have trunk diameters of 6-7 feet.  The wood is very difficult to saw and dry.  Air-dried, the wood weighs about 55 lbs a cubic foot.   Once prized for blocks and ribs on sailing ships it now serves as a highly desirable tree for roadside and ornamental planting along the coast.   The U.S.S. Constitution was one of six frigates authorized in 1794 by President George Washington for national defense.  The ship was built primarily with live oak.  "Old Ironsides" owes it nickname to the live oak tree.  During the War of 1812 someone reportedly witnessed an iron shot bounce off the side of the ship and exclaimed "Huzza, her sides are made of iron!" 

Live oaks' huge canopy provides shelter for numerous species of birds, mammals, reptiles and amphibians.  We find them lying in the sunshine on our deck, occasionally.  Tree frogs and lizards so far - hope that's all that visit.  Live oak acorns are a plentiful and desirable food for a wide variety of wildlife. 

Researching for this post I learned that the coastal maritime forest is among the most endangered of natural communities, facing threat from development in addition to climate change.  Nearly all of North Carolina's old-growth live oaks disappeared by the end of the 19th century.  today, all of the live oak trees in the state from either in developed areas or pockets of maritime forest that are in extreme danger.  Most of this information was lifted directly from "Live Oak" by Kevin Adams.  You can read his entire article by linking here.