Sounds of the Sea -- Cumberland Sound

These pictures were taken this week from the pier at Fort Clinch State Park of Cumberland Sound.  I basically had the pier to myself.  In the "Sound of the Sea", Henry Wadsworth Longfellow describes the sound of the sea waves as they lap against the shore and the tide rises.  He compares the rush of the tide to rushes of inspiration people experience sometimes.

"Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves
that break upon the idle seashore of the mind."
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Sound of the Sea

The sea awoke at midnight from its sleep,
  And round the pebbly beaches far and wide
  I heard the first wave of the rising tide
  Rush onward with uninterrupted sweep;
A voice out of the silence of the deep,
  A sound mysteriously multiplied
  As of a cataract from the mountain's side,
  Or roar of winds upon a wooded steep.
So comes to us at times, from the unknown
  And inaccessible solitudes of being,
  The rushing of the sea-tides of the soul;
And inspirations, that we deem our own,
  Are some divine foreshadowing and foreseeing
  Of things beyond our reason or control.

Seabirds - Vagabonds of the Sea

There were more birds on St. Augustine beach then people.  It was too windy and cold for even the tourist to come out and play.

To A Sea Bird (Santa Cruz 1869)

Sauntering hither on listless wings,
Careless vagabond of the sea,
Little thou heedest the surf that sings,
The bar that thunders, the shale that rings,-
Give me to keep thy company.

Little thou hast, old friend, that 's new;
Storms and wrecks are old things to thee;
Sick am I of these changes, too;
Little to care for, little to rue,-
I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

All of thy wanderings, far and near,
Bring thee at last to shore and me;
All of my journeyings end them here:
This our tether must be our cheer,-
I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

Lazily rocking on ocean's breast,
Something in common, old friend, have we:
Thou on the shingle seek'st thy nest,
I to the waters look for rest,-
I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

Francis Bret Harte

Francis Bret Harte was an American author and poet, best remembered for his accounts of pioneering life in California. 

Sunny Days of Winter

  

This is how winter looks at Princess Place Preserve in Flagler County.  Matanzas River is icy blue under the winter sun and the hardwood trees leaves are a golden hue. These pictures were taken in January.  The rest of the country is under snow and ice.

In Search of Birds at Guana River

  

During the winter months, Guana River Wildlife Preserve has a lot of birds that migrate to this area.  We did not hike far enough into the marsh to see the different variety of birds.  Cranes were swimming close to several fishermen to be fed fishing bait.

A Winter Snow in Bad Axe

These pictures were taken a week before Christmas.  The temperatures dropped to 14F and being from Florida, I was not prepared for the snow storm and wind chill factor.  Only crazy Floridians would drive in this weather or a craze photographer.  I like the stillness of the snow background and the hints of color against the frozen landscape.  I was very happy to go back to Florida.

The Bad Lands Gallery - South Dakota

 

I visited the Badlands of South Dakota in July and it is a vast wonderment of rocks, cliffs and boulders with a endless blue sky. 

 

According to Lakota legend, the Badlands were the site of a battle between the unktehi, a race of monsters, and Wakinyan, the Thunderbird. The unktehi, who lived in the primordial waters from which the Earth emerged, caused devastating floods that endangered the human race. (Another version of the legend attributes the flooding to Uncegila, a water serpent.) Angered by the loss of his worshipers, Thunderbird sent down bolts of lightning that dried up the floodwaters and killed the unktehi. Their bones were scattered throughout the Badlands, where they can still be found.

 

The Thunderbird is said to be an enormous bird-like creature with legendary strength and power. They govern the weather – their voice is thunder and lightening flashes from their eyes.

 



Hearts of a Dragon at Fort Matanzas Beach and Other Tales

Fort Matanzas Park includes a beautiful unspoiled beach of white sand dunes that are protected so wildlife can dwell in their natural habitat.  Dragonflies were everywhere flying along the walkway.  They behaved like miniature planes landing on tips of branches with their wings pointed upward.  I never saw so many dragonflies in one place.  A Dragonfly is suppose to have the heart of a dragon.   The Desolation of Smaug is a new movie coming out in December.  I wonder if Smaug has the heart of a dragonfly?  Dragons appear in many folklores, legends and children books.

Watercolor by J.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit

In Tolkien’s fantasy world, Middle-earth, is populated with creatures that owe much to the literary tradition of northern Europe.  A Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford, Tolkien had an expert knowledge of this tradition. In the year he drew this watercolor, he wrote: ‘A dragon is no idle fancy. Whatever may be his origins, in fact or invention, the dragon in legend is a potent creation of men’s imagination, richer in significance than his barrow is in gold.’

This vibrant illustration is one of a set of five, painted by Tolkien in the summer of 1937 for the first American edition of The Hobbit. It is full of vivid details, including the Arkenstone gleaming on top of the treasure trove, the skeletons of those who had attempted previous thefts, and a curse written in Elvish script on the large amphora. A feast for children's eyes!



THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON

By Ogden Nash 1936

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

Baker Gulch Trail at Never Summer Range Wilderness

I like hiking trails that follow a creek or mountain stream and crossing nature made bridges of logs and rocks.  That is an accurate description of Baker Gulch Trail at Never Summer Range Wilderness.  Everyday it rained in the Rockies and thrice we were caught in a hail storm.  The further up we climbed, the temperature dropped and an approaching rain storm would result in a hail storm of sharp balls of ice heading our heads.  I love every minute of being in a mountain rainfall and hail storm.  It is in my nature I guess. A result of my Cherokee Indian heritage is the love of misty mountains, smoky clouds and deep forests of running rivers and streams.  I love the Rockies but the Smokey Mountains is my ancestral home and where my heart abides.

Scary and Magnificent Old Fall River Road

The eleven mile stretch of Old Fall River Road is a must for anyone visiting the Rocky Mountains.  There are very few people on the road and the scenic drive will take your breath away.  It started raining and the clouds were draped over the mountain range like a cloak.  The twist and turns of the road made me nervous and there was only one way to go and that was upward until you reached the top to the Alpine Visitor Center.  Once you start the trip on the dirt road, it is one way and no turning around!  The posted speed limit is 15 miles per hour, a journey up Old Fall River Road is not for the impatient. There are no guard rails along this road.  I plan to go back and hike some of the trips to the different falls.