End of Journey

For the month of August, in order to draw awareness to the Ichetucknee River and a possible Natural Gas Line crossing over it, I decided to post a daily photograph of the Springs and stream. There are many other photographs worthy of showing, as I had several hundred to select from. I tried to select the ones that spoke  a little more, though they all do, otherwise I would not have taken them.
While I published one daily on John Stokes and John Stokes Photography in Facebook, I received my usual so-so response from John Stokes, but think the effort grew JSP as Facebook kept saying I had reached over 90% of my audience and would I like to pay to boost further.
I found that few people continue to share, one of the ways I think the audience could grow.
I found that few people would comment other than the cliched Beautiful...
During this time, the photographer David Moynahan of Crawfordville posted a photograph of the river near the headwaters with a kayaker in the background. It was a very nice photo that received 168 likes and 24 comments with a share from Save Our Suwannee.
My largest response was 25 likes by comparison. I venture to say if John Moran, his friend and equally adept photographer had a Facebook page, he would receive well into the thousand likes.
Both these photographers I emulate.
I compared them to being M&M peanuts
with me being
a plain peanut.

Pelican restored

Worked on the Pelican kayak this afternoon. Made the dreaded trek to Walmart for some eyelets and bungee and epoxy to seal holes. Last week I used stripper to remove the layers of camo paint I had sprayed on the upper hull. I was never satisfied with the paint since it always scraped off. I added bungee to the front and back decks, put two layers of foam under the seat, cut a foam piece for the seat back and sealed the old eyelet holes.
I have a new PFD on order from Cabela's in red along with a rod holder. The rod holder will be used for an umbrella, a fishing pole if ever I fish or a stop stake. I am going to fabricate the stop stake from a telescoping paint roller with some hollow wound rope. I have never used a stop stake but get tired of always drifting past a subject matter.
I am looking forward to September when the floating season ends at Ichetucknee and you do not have to pay the $5 entry fee. The Santa Fe is at flood stage again so I will stay away from there for now.
Saturday, August 31st and I am being lazy watching Gator Football and now Mississippi State. It is thundering outside and threatening rain. Melanie is in Williston with her mother, Gerald being in Tennessee at an Uncles funeral. Jordon and I met Mamma, Paula, Allison and her two boys at Cracker Barrel this morning for breakfast, that being about our only outing.
Since this photograph, I have restrung the bungee on the front of the kayak. The rod holders arrived but I have yet to install them. I found a good telescoping pole for my anchor stake which is rigged and ready.
September comes tomorrow and the Itchetucknee will have no tubers. I like the idea Dave offered of putting in at the 27 bridge and paddling up, that way the float back being easier and no time restraint from the park closing.
I have ordered parts for the little green Hydra kayak as well and await their arrival.
Looking forward to the fall.

Landon's birthday

I was thirty-three when I finally married. I never thought I would find anyone. It was by God's providence Jessica, my sisters second daughter, was admitted to Shands as a little girl, with Melanie being her nurse. Naturally, my mother and sister immediately started match making. I got up the nerve to ask her to the July 4th fanfare and fireworks at UF, but she turned me down. She was dating a doctor at the time. And so, it was a year later, after returning from a trip to St Marks, where I had found a note in a bottle, that I found in my mailbox, a letter from Melanie. She remembered that I had taken photographs of the zoo for Jessica and posted them in her room, that she had recently purchased a 'Cannon' camera, would I teach her something about photography.
The rest was history culminating in our marriage and the birth of Landon Randolph, his middle name given to him while in labor, after the grandfather on her daddy's side, Randolph Eatman.
The Landon we used, because we wanted to honor my father with his initials, Luther Ray.
Today was Landon's twenty-fifth birthday. He marks our life together as he was conceived before we were married. He is the reason I am married. I would have continued to drag my feet and avoid responsibility. When he was born, that magical change occurred in me that turned me overnight into a doting father. I did the best I could working all the time with JCPenney, a job I never really cared for, but it paid well enough to allow Melanie in the early years to be able and work part-time.
On hindsight, all the long hours, while allowing the lifestyle, also kept me perhaps from making that tight bond with Landon, of which we now find severed.
When Landon married, we were ready to let him go. But what we did not imagine, was the extent Amber, his wife, would take him. She has all but erased all people from his life, including family and his friends. And so it grieves us greatly, especially now that they have a grandson we so dearly loved and bonded with.
Our lives since March have been an undercurrent of constant hope and sorrow. Events came and went and still no call, no email, nothing.
And we continue to pray, never swaying in the hope that at some point, he will come to his senses and return.

 

Santa Fe trip part 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

does the river remember
the time we spent
paddling over her
of the time we had
there must be memory
for her ripples were sad.

 

 

 

 

Trip to Santa Fe

Heading out Branford Highway toward Beachville with Rick today to kayak.

the torrential rain set in as we made our way to Sandy Point.

 

 

 

at McManus place, the waters are still high along the river.

 

After nearly three miles and two hours later paddling upstream, we made it to the Ichetucknee.

Camera was fogged from being in damp bag.

 

 

 

the mullet were jumping but I never captured one in flight.

 

 

The Santa Fe swings are still
low they hang as summer showers
the winding river fills
and we paddle

alone for hours
while over the flooded shores
over the docks once dry
the heavens pour
as quietly over we paddle by
looking down
upon the drowned.

We put in at the 129 bridge around 3pm after Rick finally finding my keys I had dropped in the camera bag. We were going to put in at Sandy Point but it had a $5 launch fee so we came back to the ramp by the bridge. It was raining steady and hard. The kayak atop the car was full of water from the trip through the rain.  I did not mind the wetness since I had all nylon on. I decided to take the cameras anyhow, this time in a fabric cooler with an insulated interior. They stayed dry today. We paddled steady upstream to Ichetucknee in the rain, taking about two hours, over three miles. The rain turned to sprinkles, finally letting up to a sabout the time we got to Ichetucknee, paddling far enough up stream until the black and aqua met. We only saw two boats the entire day. Few birds, lots of jumping mullet.
The River was wide due to the flooding. Made it back to 129 bridge about 7pm.
No stomach cramps this time.
Not this house mans time of month Rick said.

Palpable Sadness

You can cut our sorrow with a knife
while we have Carson to hold near
it is a far cry from feeling the life
blood your own grandson dear
Little Nathaniel of whom we miss
having not seen since March
longing again for the kiss
emotions drained and parched
Nightly its not so much standing
outside looking at the moon
but trying to understand
wanting to rid this gnawing gloom
praying to God through tears
who sent His Son far away
into a land of Pharisee stares
and saw that resurrection day
when down that dusty lane
from a life among the swine
His Son again came
with this I have to remind
myself and watch that
moonlit lane
In hope that Nathaniel will
return again.

journey to the moon

it was a promising evening for a moon journey. i was lazy and did not even set up the camera on the tripod which i usually do. Sure enough, I see a jet approaching east to west that looks as if it will intersect the moon. I focused on the moon and waited. Here it came! I was able to get three shots, with only this one with the jet entirely in the moon. I was stoked.

grassy knolls

we pushed upward into the swift current, pushing against time to make it back to the dock. The park closed at 7pm or sundown, no problem, we just could not take our time. It was a piece of cake for a strong and in shape Rick who regularly works out. I had just muscled my way across the grass flats and was resting for the next push. I do not like the pushing, preferring the slow, easy, non-work-out method of paddling. My stomach muscles were all knotted up. Life is a work-out or life is a
stroll philosophy were in collision.

The Circling

The circling over beds down under
the circling of osprey above
the circling of the whirlpools
the circling back to logs
the circling of the sun
the circling of the moon
the circling of the stars
the circling sought from
near and afar.

Tustenugee Tobacco

Tobacco makes a small comeback, along with cotton this year. First tobacco seen in quite awhile.
Used to be a major Columbia County crop.

Florida Folklore Part 8

The Seminole, who moved into Florida after the white man, brought more practical beliefs, and applied them to his daily life. The making of a dugout canoe is still attended by great ceremony. After a powwow in camp, the leader guides his tribe into the swamp to select the cypress tree that is to be converted into a pich-li, a craft often 30 feet long. Singing and dancing take place around the tree; then the men selected for the task fell the tree, remove the branches and bark, and bury the ash-a-vee (cypress log) in a wet mud bank where it is left for 18 months to age. The unearthing of the log involves more cememony and feasting. After about a week of drying, work begins on shaping and hollowing out with a pit-a-chen-a-lo-gee, which resembles a hand adz. As the work progresses the children join in, squatting around the canoe and beating on it with sticks. From the sound of this tattoo the cutters can tell when the desired thinness has been obtained.
Seminole beliefs are largely associated with warnings; to places and objects strange powers are attributed, and portents are seen in many things. The blooming of the sawgrass in the Everglades is notice of a forthcoming hurricane, and the Seminole thereupon migrates to higher ground. This belief has been widely accepted by white men, even though the sawgrass is known to bloom regularly without regard to tropical storms.