Parable of the Parking Spot

Today Melanie and I journeyed to Big Lots in search of the HP Computer for $179. We found no such computer, and a store that was quite unappealing with long lines. We left without purchasing anything, with thoughts of not frequenting this store anytime soon in the future.
We then went to Office Max across the street where we got some blank CD's and a gold pen for marking photographs. Next stop was Save A Lot where the parable begins.
There was a spot three down from the entrance and Melanie said park there. I did not listen and said, there is an open spot right next to the door and took that. I stayed in the vehicle while she went inside for groceries.
I left the radio on and fell asleep,awakening when she opened the rear door. She got in and I tried to crank up, but the battery was dead. A poor looking black lady in a beat up car offered right away to try and help us jump the vehicle. She pulled next to us, but was unable to make the jumper cables reach. Had I parked where Melanie wanted, no problem. She then asked a friend of hers if I could use her phone to call home.
The lady let me and I called Amber to bring the PT Cruiser. I thanked the ladies and they went their way. Later, Amber arrived in Landon's truck and we again tried to get the vehicle cranked. It would not crank. I asked Amber to take Melanie and the groceries home and bring the PT Cruiser back. It had cranked this Tahoe previously on another occasion. They left, and I stood guard over the open spot next to us.
This is where the parable continues.
Standing in this prime spot, a lady tried to pull in. I tried to make the motion of jumper cables, but had to walk up to her car. She would not roll down the window. I told her loudly I was holding the spot. Another lady pulled up,she rolled her window down and was quite kind.
Then, in rolls a BMW with a young black fellow and he is quite put out with me that I am holding this spot, even though the spot is open right next to this one. He never says a word and pulls into the spot next to the open.
Thankfully, Melanie returned and I did not have to keep up this saving the spot routine. She pulled as close as she could and I hooked up the cables. It started up.
Parable learned. The poor,black female went out of her way to try and assist us. The rich, black haughty male did not so much lift a finger or attempt to help in any way.
So, thank-you kindly lady for attempting to help and forgive me rich young man for not allowing you to park where you so pleased. I trust a poor,black lady comes your way in your time of need.

Needmore

 

by John Clare

The day was drawing to a frantic close,
The miles of repeated pines to never end.
Low on fuel,how far must this forest go?
Then up ahead, a single bulb flickering.

As we turned into the lone, little store,
The elderly lady rose from her rocking chair.
"We don't see too many travelers in Needmore,
Mostly they just rush on past going nowhere!"

While the numbers ticked, she told of her life,
Tales of bee gums sweet upon the deep creeks,
Of her long departed husband courting his wife,
The marriage at Hopewell, the kiss on the cheek.

She could have left this forgotten little stop,
And moved on down to Lake Cities grandeur.
But she chose to remain next to the blacktop,
Telling her story to the journeymen obscure.

Slowly we lowered the handle of the Supreme,
As the elderly lady settled back into her rock.
Desperately we wanted to linger in this Needmore dream,
Where the travelers going on to nowhere forever stop.

Late that night we had to stop at another store,
The needle on the gauge reading below low.
Why, didn't we just fill up back in Needmore?
Needmore? The clerk said, "Why that station was closed
over twenty years ago."

Into the Blue Gold

 

It had been a full morning of photographing earlier in the day at White Springs along the dry river bed above the bridge on US41. I then rode up Woodpecker route to Roline landing and Turner Bridge. While at Roline, I walked upstream a ways, coming to this scene under the tupelo trees. It was a splendid location, the weather was fantastic, and I just wanted to sit and do nothing but look around. The photographer in me ruled the day, and I went about photographing.

Beside Waters Clear

 

I had just got into the kayak and was beginning to get my bearings, as downstream the current took me. It was eight o'clock in the morning and to my right, in the trees next to the run, these whitetail deer were watching me. Not taking time to even check camera settings, i began shooting, knowing they would not stay as soon as they spotted me.
Sure enough, this was the only shot I got off that was composed. To my chagrin, the camera was on shutter priority mode, at a shutter speed too fast for the early morning light. Thus, underexposed. Despite the underexposure, with a little help from the computer, I was able to salvage the photograph.

Morning Prance

 

Entering the park at first opening just after 8am, I rode the bicycle through the woods, into the clearing. Ahead, the shafts of early morning light were slanting through the oaks ahead. I stopped to take a photograph of the sun rays.
Then, in the left corner of the frame, a deer slowly walked through. I waited until the deer reached the arch in the trees and got this only photograph before she pranced into the undergrowth, out of sight.
One of those, being there at the right time, waiting a few seconds for the right moment.

Jordon's Pneumo

As Melanie and I were contemplating what a quiet house would be like, all noise breaks out.
Landon weds and moves in, not out. Jordon moves to Dallas then returns.
Since returning from Dallas, Jordon had not been well. Friday, Melanie got an appointment
for him at 4:30. I came home and took him, almost coming home and going kayaking.
Dr Athena could find nothing wrong so she sent him for an x-ray of the chest to be safe.
We walked over to Lake Shore and checked in. We got the x-ray and came on home.
Soon after, dr Randolph called. On first call, I hung up on her, thinking she a telemarketer!
Second call, answering machine. Melanie called back and she wanted us to meet her at the office.
She said he had a pneumothorax of the right lung, 30% collapsed.
Jordon became quite emotional, wondering if he would live.
We assured him he would be fine and quickly left.
Soon the ambulance arrived and Melanie rode with him and the two attendants while I followed.
At Shands they got him to a trauma room and started the process
to surgically install a chest tube.
They allowed Mel and I to stay in the room as they did the procedure.
Jordon was under light sedation. All went well. We waited for a room.
Melanie called her sister to stay the night, but Gerald, her step father came instead
around midnight. Melane and I got home after two am.
Saturday we got back by one in the afternoon. Jordon did well all day, and I came on home around 7pm.
After church I came with meme Clara. Jordon Sunday had a bad day throwing up with a migraine.
Melanie left hesitantly after six and thus I am here tonight.
A familiar role for me.

Poetic Days

Lately I have dwelt less in photography and more into poetry. The crafting of words brings as much, if not more satisfaction than crouching before a swallowtail. I love to take a rhyme pattern and attempt to conform the words into the structure. It is often quite the enjoyable struggle to make the lines flow with intellible thought.
My two favorite books are the dictionary and thesarsus.
The expanding of the vocabulary a joyful exploration as new ways of expressing thought,
as finding new colors for a painting.
I do by no means claim to have a corner on poetry. Like photography, I am but a mere
kindergarten student. Poetry is my way of connecting with this world, a way I find confortable
and familiar. I shun the direct and obvious for the metaphor, the sonnet, the allegory,
the mystery. Daily we get enough of the harsh, the vulgur, the obvious.
We all need a poem to retreat into, a rhyme in the erratic.
In all that I endeavor to do, whether poetry, photography or any other form of artistry,
if one bit of magic is projected to you, and you in turn pass the magic along, then together we
have played a part in the making of the poetry of life.

Cone Bridge to Big Shoals

After checking the county map, I decided to see if the road to Big Shoals was still open behind the St James AME Church off 131. It had been years since I had walked in when the road to St James was still dirt. This time, the road is paved and the road down to the shoals gated. I rode on to see where the pavement would lead and it came out on 441North at Deep Creek. Since I was already near Cone Bridge, I drove up and got the mountain bike off the rack. The mile and a half road leading down to Cone Bridge had been mowed on both sides, thus no butterflies were about. On the way in, a flock of turkeys ran ahead of me. I took the bike and rode along the riverbank upstream for about a mile, stopping to take a few photographs. Returning to the car, I had to wait for the County Road Grader to pass. My the improvements!
Retracing my route to 131, past two large deer prisons with the high fences, I ventured to Morrell Road and Bell Springs. Fortunately, this area is owned by the Suwannee River Water Management so access was allowed. I rode down to where Bell Springs trickles into the Suwannee, the left the bike for about a two mile hike upstream to Big Shoals. It was a good hike on high bluffs, through palmetto trails under large pines and various oaks. With the river on my left, I often made stops to observe the low state of the river. Arriving at Big Shoals, I was amazed at the amount of rocks showing. The only flow was a narrow stream on the Hamilton Bank.
I walked about the rocks, easily getting to the far bank. The only people around were two Rangers who walked up from the Hamilton path. Making the hike back, I stopped at Robinson Branch to observe the falls there. It was now over eight feet high, with a small flow from Falling Creek. In the past, this was quite a roaring creek with the waterfall wide and about four feet high.
Further along, I finally came to the Bell Springs Run to the river. This too, but a small flow, but pretty under the canopy of lush trees and backlighting.
For those wishing to take a nice day hike, I recommend the Bell Springs to Big Shoals hike. The path is entirely scenic and shaded. Take water and a snack along though,something I did not do. I do not know how you would get across Robinson Branch if the water was up, as there are some deep holes just above the falls where the path goes across. If you did not step carefully, in or over the falls you could go. Otherwise, you could hike further upstream to where it would not be as deep.
For now, no problem. If you need a guide, my fees are outrageously low. Give me a call.

Stone Angel

 

by John Clare

Long bide the time til resurrection day,
Lone guard of souls in earthly graves.
Etched in granite your tears are saved,
Stone angel, we all shall pass your way.
Guard our souls long journey we pray.
Come Creator, Come and ever raise,
Shout! Trump! Shall the dead offer praise?
Never more in this cold earth to lay?
Stone angel with wings poised to fly,
Bound in frosty mourns patient wait.
Burst the coffin to awake us home.
Soon you cease your gaze unto the sky,
Then in a blinding light new creations state!
Stone angel, how mighty you tower before the throne!

The Remnants of the Rich

Making our $17 per person reservations to board the ferry boat to Cumberland Island National Seashore, Melanie and I prepared for the trip.
Cumberland Island is the Southernmost barrier island along the Georgia coast. In the 1800's, it was the home to the Carniege family, with their sprawling mansion named Dungeness by Mrs Carniege.
Today, all that remains are the stone and brick walls along with several outbuildings, arbors and other rusting relics fro
a bygone era. In the small cemetery overlooking the marsh is the gravesite of Henry Lighthorse Lee, father of Robert E Lee, who died and was buried at Cumberland, later to be removed to Washington.
With Melanie still in her recovery, we opted to take the half day tour, from 9:45 to 4:45.
Arriving in St Mary's an hour in advance, we sat and admired the renovated waterfront with a park.
A festival was in progress so more people than expected were in town.
At the check in, we were told we had to pay the $4 park entry fee. At about noon, we were given instructions about the trip over and back, then our large group boarded the Cumberland Queen. We had a cart so we sat on the stern of the boat. You could sit on top, inside or along the sides.
The ride over takes about 45 minutes through the mouth of the Crooked and St Mary's river.
Riding into the wind was quite cold. Disembarking, we ate lunch at a picnic table set up just off the oak lined shell road.
We took the half mile walk to Dungeness, where we spotted several of the ferel horses on the island.
I also spotted two monarch butterflies. We walked about, thinking what it would have been like to live in this era when the ruins were new.
To imagine the horse drawn carriages, the servants about.
From Dungeness we took an arduous walk to the ocean, a mile of hilly sand dunes.
Melanie did well, keeping up and not faltering.
We did stop often to take in the scenery. On the beach, which extended well
over 500 ft to the Atlantic, we spread out a blanket and enjoyed the gulls and martins.
We watched our time closely as to not miss our ride back to mainland.
Making it back to the dock, we sat and watched three horses and eight turkeys feeding in the meadow behind the museum.
Finally, the boat arrived with already many in tow. Standing roo
only, we were able to take our same stern seats back.
We watched a submarine being towed to Kings Bay Base by a tugboat.
Last off boat, we walked down to the seafood restuarant on the water at the end of the park.
We saw the sunset as we ate shrimp, scallops and talapia.
We walked through the park then to the car, which upon cranking, shuttered and the engine light came on.
Getting gas in kingsland, the light did not come back as we prayerfully returned from a great day.
We made it home to set the time back, enjoying another hour of the day at Cumberland island.

The Perfect Pose

 

Over thirty different exposures of this Blue Heron were made as I crept closer and closer to him from below in the kayak.
After about thirty, the camera quit working. Memory card full. A sign that enough is enough. Yet, upon inserting another 2G card, continued photographing. When all look good to me, what pose does one choose? It would be nice if the Heron could view and choose.

Mallard Ducks of Itchetucknee

 

Each bend in the river, the wood ducks would remain just out of reach. Like a covey of quail, you would be startled by the flurry of their wings as they flew just ahead. On the return trip upstream, I rounded the bend, and there they sat, posed upon the branch. I had just enough time to quickly compose a photograph before,as they had all day, fly just ahead in wait.

Enter the White Heron

 

Quicky I dropped the paddle, took up the camera and captured the flight of the White Heron.

Blue Heron of Devils Eye

 

Nearer and nearer the kayak crept. Still the Blue Heron remained. How many photographs does one take before deciding, just stop and watch? Too many I fear.

First on the Water

The Ichetucknee Springs State Park opens at 8am. This morning, I was at the North entrance gate at 7:59am with kayak.
I payed the honor $5 fee and parked. Unloading, I drug and carried the kayak and photo gear about a half mile to the launch site.
Getting in off the dock was tricky, but I took it slow and did not capsize. It was already warm enough for a tee so I strapped the pullover microfiber on the back of the kayak with the tripod.
Once underway, the going was slow to Blue Hole. Many stops were made as the yellow wild flowers and cardinal flowers were abundant.
Past Blue Hole the current picked up and by Devils Eye, it was quite swift. Time was spent at Devils Eye close to a blue heron who stayed motionless on the bank. The morning solitude was broken by a lone canoe, a small Bell Canoe Works paddled by a man named Don.
I asked permission to take his photo as he passed. He said he would like a copy and gave me his email.
I wrote it on the notepad before forgetting.
Alone again, i made it as far as Mill Springs, where I ate a banana and almond joys
for a snack. I knew if I went further, with the swift current, it would be a long paddle back.
I went up Mill Springs a bit, to see the source of the water falling, which was falling over a log, before heading back.
The entire time, I never found the type photo envisioned, lush deep blues with greens, but got a few decent shots.
One particular like was coming on the wood ducks before they flew. Two males were perched out of the water, with the females below.
Another was a white heron with the sunlight behind him with a telephoto blurring just enough the background.
Near the take out, I stopped for about thirty minutes as the white heron fished a few feet in front .
The sun would come and go, making a variety of lighting conditions.
I gingerly crawled out of the kayak to the dock, walked back for the car,

loaded up, came home, got Melanie, where we then went to vote.