They are swimming north. The Vernal Equinox approaches...
atlantic common dolphin of long island, ny
March 09, 2005
Ghosts in the Machine
...ghost swamp
The hanging moss was a white, ghostly grey, hanging down on a gloom clouded day, creating a bit of hazy sureality.
The water was organic, blackish, opaque. Hidden mystery. Primordial, reptilian swirls of ancient fears and urges. It oozes into life as unexpected illusionary chains, like grey moss tangled around your neck. Part of me wants to wade through it deeply, get a different picture, a different perspective. Wash away the chains holding me teathered to concrete walkways, and take a better shot at it all. The ghosts of dragons lay deep. Most people never even get a glimpse of them. How do you tame what you cannot see? Listen for ghosts whispering.
...Rolling and Tumbling. Swimming free. Swamps feed. Don't gather moss.
(swamp - Wilmington, NC)
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March 04, 2005
Friends...
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February 25, 2005
Slack Tide
Low tide can be highly rejuvenating if it avoids stagnation. As the waters recede, the inter-tidal zone is exposed, revealing a different perspective of the life there. The roots of the warm-green marsh emerge, crabs and snails stroll about, clams spit at your presense by clamping down tight. The marsh is a hidden realm of nutritive resource. Eggrets, herons, gulls, terns, all swoop in to steal their share aloft and spread the richness. The smell of low tide is alive with the aroma of fecundity.
As the water pulls out, many of the bait-fish, worms, and crustations are swept out with the current, no longer in the luxurious security of the marsh grass. They are funneled down channels to the hungry fish lurking below. The fish feed in swirls of delight and frustration, but they stay in the deep, dark recesses of holes and larger channels. They hug the bottom and wait. Digest and wait for the return.
Areas of deep mud can get you in trouble. If you hit bottom, there is no pushing out. As the tide drops, you are stuck in seemingly higher and higher degrees. Once at dead low, the water doesn't return quickly. It reaches a gravitational equilibrium and there you are in slack tide. Stuck. At the mercy of green flies, gnats, diving birds, and all things annoying. And it seems all you can do is wait. Like a beached whale sufficating under its own weight, you wait in unrest. You could walk out through the mud, but its too much of a slog. Slack tide can last for what seems like eternity. Stagnant. Lifeless.
...And then, what you were waiting for, suddenly returns, unexpectantly. A small minnow swims back to the marsh.
(marsh Great South Bay, Long Island)
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February 24, 2005
blue icing
...from december
blue icing... got my boat and a friend's boat out of the water today. skim ice has been forming every still night, it was time to get out. the ride to the ramp is only about a mile or so, so it didn't seem too cold. with a blue sky and utterly windless conditions, the water did look like blue icing. it wasn't iced, just very, very still. it'll skim over tonight. the bay was really nice, all clear and crisp and clean. three clammers were digging for their gold in a peaceful solitude, devoid of summer's population enthalpy, but probably singing their own icy blues.
chilled. wish I had that wood burning stove. a cup of hot thai soup and a hot laptop on me. eyes heavy. relaxed. three more months of landlock. patience. cold irons bound.
candle and daydream time. short day.
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