Smiling Faces and "Caret" Motives

Now that things appear to have changed for the better in this country, we may be expected to pick up the pace. I am talking about walking instead of driving, taking the stairs and not the elevator, drying clothes on the line, growing our own vegetables; i.e., we must be about the business of making our lives more "green." Does all of this carbon offsetting sound like a lot of work? You bet.



...Alice looked around her in great surprise. "Why, I do believe we've been under this tree the whole time! Everything's just as it was!"
"Of course it is," said the Queen. "What would you have it?"
"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else--if you ran very fast for a long time as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"



--from Through the Looking-Glass, Chapter II, "The Garden of Live Flowers," by Lewis Carroll--



On our recent trip to visit family in distant homes, we stopped on the way back to our home at a National Seashore site and wildlife refuge near Cape Canaveral. The alligator pictured above immediately attracted our attention, even though it never appeared to move at all. It might seem a little strange for wildlife to be sheltered so near a site laden with TCE (trichloroethylene) and its degradation products such as vinyl chloride. Hubby has been to the Cape before but not as a tourist. He once tracked contaminant plumes in the soil and groundwater there.

"Rockets' red glare" is still seen here occasionally when the shuttle blasts off into space. We may not be in a race with the Russians anymore, but there is much more work to be done in space. Since the economy is in such a meltdown, I wonder where the money will come from to pay for this work?

This building (above) looks a little like a condominium, but it serves a more important purpose than fattening the bank accounts of developers. Can you guess what it is?

We found another building with a lot of history as well as significance for the future close to home. The National Naval Aviation Museum has become a major tourist attraction for NW Florida and serves an important purpose in educating people about naval aviation. Admission is free, so it's a good place to take a large group. Children seem especially impressed with the vast collection of carefully disassembled, restored, and reassembled aircraft and aviation memorabilia.

This type of green-washing would never work for our daughter. Even with a low-flow showerhead, she consumes more water than you would think humanly possible. I wish I could somehow rig up a mandatory one-rain-barrel shower for her. Initiatives seldom seem to work with some consumers, but carefully enforced mandates just might do the trick.

I know these objects are just carets. You know, ^^, empty, lacking things like engines or people to make them fly.

Only imagination can truly take flight in this place. And it does, even for earthbound bloggers who like to walk and then write.

It takes a very large prop to move a ship, and, it appears, even larger props like "carbon offsets" and "RECs" (renewable energy credits) to move a movement. Empty of meaning or purpose, except maybe to enrich some savvy business owners--oops, I mean directors and stakeholders of nonprofit organizations--they have become the watchwords for a new generation of green optimists.

"Though Much is Taken, Much Abides"

Even "the unemployed" find it necessary sometimes to travel roads once familiar and then left behind to visit loved ones, familiar, and now residing in distant "homes."

The unemployed find strength in things like wildflowers on dunes on barrier islands.

An invitation to drive on the beach once again proves too tempting a pleasure to forgo. The slow pace required and the current paucity of visitors on Anastasia Island reminds one that progress is not always an optimal thing or even long-lived.

Structures built to withstand the fury of Atlantic storms, like this hacienda we once referred to as the Hotel California, aspire to great strength and resilience, but they will ultimately not last.

Gaillardia, though, have proven their resilience and ability to withstand the most adverse of conditions.

Starfish find themselves washed ashore sometimes and, if they're lucky enough to not be plucked from their temporary environment, may eventually regain their former comfort and nourishment provided by the sea.

Some objects do not fare so well when the tide returns to claim the space they occupy.

Dunes like the ones on Anastasia Island need protection because they render protection when it is most needed, during hurricane season.

At the end of the day, a peace offering from the sea is held up for inspection and admiration.

Favorite eateries and watering holes still stand as welcome stations on an island once considered home. This former bastion of bacchic sports celebrations, though, seems to be barely holding its own in this season of scarcity. Even the battle between Sooners and Gators does not command the high ticket prices it might have in years past.

The object of a journey to the East Coast of Florida still holds her own in the face of advancing age and retreating cognition. Born in 1917, she has lived through many tough times it would be nice to forget. A son's wife of 29 years, when asked "Who are you?," decides that memory loss, either short- or long-term, is not a blessing, at least as far as humans are concerned. Governors from the Land of Lincoln and their cohorts should take note that history, at least, keeps track of untruths and will never yield to forgetfulness.

...Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are--

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem "Ulysses"--

Bird (Pelican) Droppings, Moon Pie Hoistings, and Other Colorful Views from the Poor Man's Riviera

Pelicans have made a comeback to the Gulf Coast in ways I would never have expected. I knew that since DDT was banned, they have gradually been able to increase in number and grace the skies over Northwest Florida and neighboring states with their presence. Do you think it was to celebrate this victory over decimation that made enthusiastic citizens in Pensacola initiate "dropping" a large sculpture of a pelican on New Year's Eve? I am not sure, but I was hoping to witness and capture the scene myself. Unfortunately, Hubby and I missed the event (he is still recovering from a whopper of a cold), but daughter was able to attend with a friend. She forgot to take her camera, so I have had to rely on another blogger's perspective. Mobile, Alabama, a nearby city on the Gulf Coast, held its own unusual celebration with a Moon Pie drop. You have to hand it to the good people of this region (sometimes known as the Redneck Riviera but what I prefer to call the Poor Man's Riviera). They know how to have a good time in great style.


Though things like pelicans and moon pies are instantly recognizable and maybe worthy of celebration, lumps of "something" on the beach known for its pristine sugar sand are cause for pause. These objects on the shoreline near the Fort Pickens barricade (site closed since Hurricane Ivan) resemble rocks, but closer inspection of smaller, similar pieces revealed a wood-like texture. It might be debris that has finally washed ashore after a long time soaking in the sea. From an ancient shipwreck, perhaps?

The colors of the Gulf change from moment to moment, from silver here...

...to almost aquamarine here on the west side of the Pensacola Beach pier...

...to sapphire blue here on the east side of the pier. I think the change in color comes from a change in perspective. The angle at which light bounces back from the sea's surface to my eye and the lens of the camera makes all the difference. Of course, the two views from the pier were at a much greater angle from the surface than the view at beach level. And the angle of the sun's light hitting the water changes the color even more. I took the picture on the beach about two hours after visiting the pier on Tuesday.

A Psalm of Life

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!--

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each tomorrow

Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled dreams, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,--act in the living present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

--poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow--

Man O' War, Friend or Foe?

When fellow bloggers remind me that I am living in a virtual paradise (please see comments on my previous post), I consider it my duty to investigate their assumption. Hubby and I visited Pensacola Beach on Sunday and found the red flags flying for good reason. The surf was rough and DANGEROUS! The only people allowed in the water wore wet suits and rode flimsy boards. All other reasonable souls ate lunch, walked, and observed life on land.

These prints in the sand do not belong to us. Hubby and I wore sandals on the beach because we found lots of interesting blue blobs littering the beach. I initially thought they were jellyfish, but Hubby remembered that they are much more dangerous than mere jellyfish. They are PORTUGESE MAN (MEN?) O' WAR! Even busy people like the first Prince Albert of Monaco found them fascinating enough to enlist the help of renowned scientists to study them. The original Prince Albert, as a young man, had the foresight, intelligence, and initiative (and lest we forget, lots of time and money!) to explore the forbidding waters of the Arctic Circle and open an oceanographic institute in Monaco. It is too bad the current Prince Albert of Monaco found chasing skirts more to his liking as a young man than seriously following in his progenitor's footsteps. For some reason, in the last several years, he has suddenly discovered the old man's passion and has jumped on the global warming bandwagon (ship?). It had very nearly left him behind.


I was glad for once that Micah was not with us on the beach because he would have been tempted to pick one up and could have been injured. These creatures, though they appear harmless and quite beautiful, can pose serious threats to curious or careless people. They should definitely not be handled or stepped on. Anaphylaxis can even occur in some people who are hypersensitive to the toxins in their long tentacles, traces of which can linger on objects such as shoes and beach toys. In spite of their dangerous methods of capturing prey, they are not without their own predators. They do provide food for various fish as well as loggerhead sea turtles.




Hubby has been suffering lately with a head cold, and a warm day at the beach helped clear his sinuses and some muddled thoughts in my own head. Just a few hours spent watching the waves and the curiosities they leave behind them can do that for just about anyone who likes to ponder.

The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep,

Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,

His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep

The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee

About his shadowy sides; above him swell

Huge sponges of millenial growth and height;

And far away into the sickly light,

From many a wondrous and secret cell

Unnumber'd and enormous polypi

Winnow with giant arms the lumbering green.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie

Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,

Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;

Then once by man and angels to be seen,

In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

--a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson--

Yule Haul

Waiting

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,

Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,

For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays--

For what avails this eager pace?

I stand amid the eternal ways

And what is mine shall know my face.

You never know what waits for you at the end of a long journey from a far-away, frozen land. It could be a hammock on the patio in the sun and a friendly, familiar face...

...or two, or more.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me,
No wind can drive my bark astray
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years,
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up in fruit of tears.


You may find the annual rye you had sown a few weeks ago finally making an appearance on a drab winter lawn in Northwest Florida. You wonder if that guy at the agricultural check station could really believe someone claiming to be hauling home a few pots of his wife's herbs all the way from Illinois. You have discovered that honesty is still the best policy. And it never hurts to have a long line of trucks waiting behind you to dispel any doubt. The Loropetalum, among other things, lets you know that winter here is a lot more colorful now that you are home.

The waters know their own, and draw

The brook that springs in yonder height;

So flows the good with equal law

Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,

Can keep my own away from me.

--"Waiting" by John Burroughs (1837-1921)--

La Mere OIE, Another Goose That Gathers Golden Eggs

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children, she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth, without any bread,
Then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

--a Mother Goose (La Mere Oie) nursery rhyme--

Watching a professional at work can really help an amateur like me understand that photography is really not my thing. A week ago Saturday we drove over to Bayview Park in Pensacola, and the wife of one our son's co-workers took some holiday family photos of all of us. It was a pleasure to watch her work with that camera and a keen eye for detail. The experience wins hands-down over the usual uncomfortable poses, fake sets, and hot lights in someone's studio. Besides, Hubby and I got to take some pictures of everyone too, even the photographer.


Now that Micah is able to sit still for about thirty seconds and listen to someone read, the best choice for story material (at least in my opinion) usually ends up as a selection from a book of nursery rhymes and bedtime stories. Even my son remembers this book, and I found his name scribbled in the pages today. I guess he was practicing penmanship at the time and could not find any paper handy. Once I started reading these time-tested verses again, I began to wonder if people still find them fascinating now that we are firmly embraced by the electronic age.

My various queries at one point turned up over two million entries on the subjects of nursery rhymes and Mother Goose! Not many of them were kind to the old bird, and in fact many of them pointed out that her verses for children are politically incorrect today. Whipping children soundly after half-starving them doesn't sound very kind or correct in any age. One entry I read maintains that most, if not all, nursery rhymes were not originally composed for children's benefit but rather as political jabs at the powers-that-be. Aha! Now I don't feel so bad for possibly scaring the wits out of my children or damaging their psyches when I read those scary stories and verses to them years ago. I was merely preparing them for the big, bad world out there and helping them begin to navigate those shark-infested waters known as p-o-l-i-t-i-c-s and e-c-o-n-o-m-y.

Did I just say big, bad world? I forget sometimes. Our economy is global now, and I have helped create it. My vote counted for the powers-that-be.