Serenity at Englewood Beach and Stump Pass
Two weeks ago, I traveled to Florida for a college reunion at New College and to meet with Leymis Bolaños Wilmott, the artistic director of Sarasota Contemporary Dance. We are collaborating for National Water Dance Day in April. After all the festivities were over, I was fortunate to visit friends in Englewood Beach. I grew up in Florida and spent my childhood on the beaches and swimming in bays and in the ocean, but so much has changed. Development has changed the feel of my childhood haunts.
When I lived in Sarasota again, from 2002-2013, I used to ride my bicycle down to Englewood and it still mostly looks the same as it did a decade ago. Of course Englewood is growing too, but not at as fast as it is in Sarasota and old Florida is still visible. Spending two days there made me miss the slower pace and the way Florida used to be before 900 people a day began moving there. Before dinner, I walked out to the beach. A drum circle was taking place and if people hadn’t been waiting at a table for me, I would have sat on the beach until dark. Suddenly there was no where else I wanted to be. It turns out that staying put might be the best course for awhile, so it was good to get a head start in Englewood before heading home to Asheville.
Sunrise, Stump Pass
My friend’s sister is a ranger at Stump Pass. She kindly took us out to the end of the beach to see the sunrise before the park opened. It’s possible to get there by foot, but you can’t leave your car at the State Park until 7 am so you have to walk several miles to see sunrise. The sky turned the water golden as the sun crept up over the houses. Normally I hate buildings or other evidence of the hand of man, and at first I caught myself wishing that the opposite shore was devoid of development. Then I realized how content the birds were, especially since the water quality seemed good for a change. No red tide is a gift these days. I suspected the people in the large houses across the way were also happy that fish weren’t dying and smelling up their backyards.
A Trio of Pelicans
Then this formation of pelicans flew by that caught my eye. I loved the way they’d organized to fly in an aesthetic formation. If i’d been painting them from my head, I couldn’t have done better. Would that humans were as intelligent and orderly as we went about our business.
Trio of Pelicans with a Diving Bird
The pelicans kept coming by and looking for fish. Suddenly I found myself in position to make a photo of one with wings perfectly outstretched in front of the rose-colored sky, while another trio of birds glided above as they searched the water below. What I really love about watching pelicans fly is how their wings gently stretch in various directions to guide them. In the image above, you can see how some of their wing tips are curled and splayed just right. They know how to steer their course with a minimum of effort.
Black Skimmers, Stump Pass
The skimmers are the most fascinating to watch. Their mandibles are huge, so they can skim the water to eat which they do gracefully but fast as a whip. Their bottom jaws skim the water, while their top beaks are ready to shut instantly as soon as then sense a fish. They move so quickly that even as their beaks and eyes come into focus the rest of their bodies appear softer. The birds are endangered in New Jersey and are of special concern in North Carolina and Florida. Their biggest threats are oil spills, development , cats, and being disturbed by humans since they are ground feeders and their nests are on the ground in open areas. Much of the tip of Stump Pass was cordoned off to protect birds. Dogs are only allowed on the trails, especially during bird and turtle nesting season but my friend’s sister said that people arriving by boat often disobey the rule.
Shell Tree, Stump Pass
This was the only beach where I have ever seen shell trees. People pick shells and adorn the branches of dead or dying trees with them. I used to hate making images that I thought the hand of man had any part in. I was a purist and valued nature on its own terms for the lessons it had to teach. In recent times, I have seen our truly wild areas disappear more and more and I have acknowledged both the need and value of preserving nature within the boundaries of human habitation. Every inch we protect, whether the work of humans is visible or not, is a gift. Perhaps the people that placed the shells here felt the same way. Sea level is rising in Florida and vegetation is on the front lines as well as being helpful in preserving our shorelines. I interpreted the shells as a touching gesture of thanks, and perhaps even an acknowledgment that humans are causing the environment harm. Of course reducing our carbon footprint would be even better than placing shells that sea creatures have outgrown on denuded branches. Ironically, this already seems to be happening as a result of this new virus that is traversing the globe . Perhaps the earth will save herself after all.
Feeding at the Water’s Edge
The light on these plovers was exquisite and I loved watching them dodging the waves at the water’s edge. Observing their small bodies, I was relieved that we weren’t seeing any signs of the red tide that had plagued the west coast earlier in the year, or blue green algae blooms like the east coast experiences. It was soul healing to see birds living simply, feeding at sunrise, following their natural cycles, and not immanently at risk from the environment at least on this day. So much of my childhood was spent watching birds and collecting shells and it was always so relaxing and rejuvenating. My world was full of hope. Nature can fill us with this emotion when we hold up our end of the bargain and protect what keeps us all alive.
Gliding Little White Egret
When I saw this little white egret gliding just above the waves and in perfect synch and oblivious to all that was going on around him or her, I suddenly felt a deep sense of peace. Watching the bird, I thought how sometimes I foolishly try and fly to high with the goal of accomplishing more than one person can without sacrificing my health or sense of balance. Sometimes I am guilty of trying too hard, and then things usually go awry. But if I keep gliding close to the earth, so I don’t lose sight of where I am coming from and where I am going or how lucky I am to be able to make minor steering alterations when necessary, so that I can ride the currents of possibility for as long as possible and not get sucked into negativity. In these moments, I am in touch with the ocean of my consciousness and experience true harmony. This is one of the incredibly valuable gifts nature provides us with.