North to Nashville...

It had been a loooooong time since I had ventured north to Nashville, TN. The last time was to visit my grandparents, so it was...the mid-80's. Man! It HAS been a long time. I wish the circumstances that took me there had been different. I addressed that in the previous entry. Better get to my trip observations before I get back into 'can't write mode'...

The point 'B' to our journey was my uncle Butch and aunt Dollie's house in Hendersonville. Just a hop and a skip from Nashville. Glenn and I were looking at eight or nine hours of road time. I didn't really find it daunting. It had been so long since I had been on a lengthy road trip that I was kind of looking forward to it. I find that kind of travel meditative at times, so I was looking forward to some mental diversion therapy. I ended up driving for a considerable chunk. It helped my mental state quite a bit.

As we headed to Macon (after that it would be Atlanta), we passed the exit(s) for Georgia Southern Col...University. I know it's a University and has been for awhile now, but it was a "college" when I went there. Anyway, I made a mental note about paying a visit there to have a look around. See how it's changed. I'm sure I'll have to brace myself before I tune into the radio station. When Glenn and I were DJ's in the early to mid-80's, WVGS's station ID's said, "You're listening to your Progressive alternative...WVGS, Statesboro". 'Progressive and Alternative' we were. You could hear anything and everything on there. Everything from hard core punk to jazz to rockabilly to new wave to classical to urban contemporary to...well, you get my point. We were one of the top rated college stations in those days. I feel a huge 'wax on' moment settling in, so I'll contain myself and shelve it for another entry. Moving right along...

One of the first things I noticed when we entered Highway 16 was the speed limit. The last lengthy road trip I had taken was in the days of the 60 mph limit. Wasn't surprised that it was now 70. Was quite happy about it actually. The speed limit is now 70, so of course I went 80.

The trip as a whole was smooth sailing. We ran into a couple of minor hold-ups. Back-up of some trucks at a weigh station, and a short stretch of shoulder construction. Traffic was moderate to light the whole way. I did have some flashbacks here and there. Landmarks that I recognized from years past...both nature created and man made. Chattanooga looked pretty much identical to how I remember it. No new stretches of highway. The same old billboards urging you to visit Lookout Mountain and See Rock City. Signs letting you know that the Chattanooga Choo Choo Hotel was off the next exit. We had a family meet-up there once years ago. Ate in their restaurant and had a look around. Don't know what it's like now, but back then it was really cool. They had some hotel rooms that were in actual train cars. Nifty. The next flash from memory lane was when we went through MontEagle. It's at the top of a small mountain. When I was young and we would make the trip to visit my grandparents, we would usually stop to grab a bite o' lunch at the MontEagle diner. The old antique/swap meet was still there, too. We were traveling on Tuesday, so the tumbleweeds were blowing through. It would be jumping over the weekend. After MontEagle, the fireworks stores started to make themselves known. Fireworks are legal in Tennessee. You can buy just about anything...M-80's, bottle rockets, etc. No. They dangled the carrot, but we didn't bite. Talked about it for a minute or two, but decided that there wasn't anything we needed to be buying. Maybe next trip...hehe...

We saw a lot of trees, fields, and passed by the Tennessee river. It's really beautiful up there. We passed the exit for the Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg. You would've thought that at some point I would have made it there to the tour, but as of yet I haven't. It was discussed after we had arrived at my aunt and uncle's, but it didn't pan out. The thing I find funny about the JD Distillery is that it's in a dry county. One of the (if not THE) most famous whiskey makers is in a county you can't buy their product in. Hah!

Not long after that we entered Nashville and made our way to Hendersonville. Observed areas hit by the flooding as we went. I was very bummed to learn that Opryland is no longer around. The hotel is, but the theme park is historical. There's a big shopping mall there now. I had visited Opryland a number of times when I was young. Was a fun place. The new Opry house was adjoining the park (believe it's still there), so you could see well known country singers perform there as part of your admission to the park. I remember seeing a performance by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton.

Once at my aunt and uncle's, things kind of felt surreal. The elements of the trip regarding the reason for the trip. Those aside, it was good to see Butch and Dollie, and it was really good to see my brother. Hadn't seen him in quite awhile. The last time I saw him was a number of years ago when I visited him and his family for Christmas. I can't recall just how long, but I'm thinking around seven years (?). My nephew Karl made the trip with him. Karl is about twice as tall as the last time I saw him. I'm pretty sure that over the course of our time at Butch and Dollie's, I re-earned my title as 'Crazy Aunt Lisa'. Well earned it is.

A couple of days were spent at my mother's condo with my brother, Mike, divvying up items from her estate. I used the word "surreal" previously, but this just felt plain weird. One of those moments that you know is happening, but you can't believe it is. Anyway, this past Friday boxes were filled and loaded into the back of Glenn's truck for the journey home. We do have another trip to make in a few weeks...most likely when my brother makes his trip down for the things he's taking. (Mike and Karl flew, so they obviously couldn't have taken anything with them this time around.) Saturday morning, Glenn and I tied everything down with a tarp Butch gave us. There was rain in the forecast, so I wanted to put something over the end of a rug we had sticking out of the back. The only plastic bag we could find (we had forgotten the box of garbage bags at the condo the day before) was the big plastic packaging you get bulk toilet paper in. So that's what I taped to the protruding end. It was noticed, quite unanimously, that we had definitely achieved 'Redneck' with that.



(Glenn e-mailed the above photo to his brother who was quick to point out that it wasn't truly 'redneck' because the toilet paper bag said 'Northern' on it. Nit picker!)

Rain started to fall before we were out of Nashville. Nothing heavy. At least, not until we neared the exit for the first of the two distilleries (there is a Dickson (?) distillery in addition to the JD one - think they produce whiskey, too). It got a bit heavier and about the time we reached the exit to JD the bottom fell out. To say it was coming down hard...it was the variety of hard driving rain when you can hardly make out the lines in the road, and don't realize there's another car nearby until you're practically grazing their bumper. It had been years since I had driven in rain like that, but I do know how to handle a vehicle in the rain. We're in desperate need of new wipers on the truck (keep forgetting to replace them...), but they did the job. Thankfully, since we kept moving forward, the rain never made it into the truck bed. Everything was bone dry when we got home. Eventually, we made it ahead of the rain. There was a discussion about another motorist we had passed during the thick of the storm. Someone had pulled over to the side of the road to wait things out. I can understand them doing that if they felt uncomfortable driving in that downpour, but once the rain slacked off and they got back on the road they were just going to hit it again. Oh well. We got far enough ahead for the rain to stop and had gotten to MontEagle where we stopped for a pit stop. There was talk of getting something to eat, but the clouds over the mountain were darkening fast and the wind was whipping furiously around, kicking flotsam into the air. We decided to put more distance behind us, so back on the road we went. Waited until we were south of Chattanooga, and the storm had made it's way off in another direction.

As we exited Tennessee and entered back into Georgia, a major feature of the highway shoulders became more prevalent. The evil vine known as Kudzu.



Anybody who has visited the south has seen it. Enveloping roadside hills, and enshrouding trees and bushes. It has an evil rep in these here parts. (I plan to make a separate entry that talks about this insidious viney plant...for any interested parties.) Through this stretch Glenn was behind the wheel, so I spent some time trying to snap some photos of the massive vine growths. A chunk of that time was also spent cursing the drivers of vehicles big enough to block a number of my Kudzu photographing opportunities. Once we got to Atlanta, I spent quite a bit of the time reading the various exit signs and having retro moments of remembering the various street names, areas mentioned that I had either been through-visited-lived in (I grew up in Atlanta). It wasn't riveting, but it was a form of entertainment.



We skirted Atlanta via the 285 a.k.a. 'The Perimeter'. Headed through Macon. Passed Dublin, Vidalia, Statesboro, etc., blah blah, woof woof. It was getting late by the time we neared Savannah. A distant storm was brewing. Shafts of lightning angled down here and there. At first I was hoping that we'd hit some more rain, but then Glenn pointed out the fact that we needed to unload the truck when we got home...if it was raining, that would really suck. The clouds persisted out there in the dark of night, and the shards of burning light still continued to knife down here and there, but the rain stayed away and we were able to get the contents of the truck bed inside without getting drenched. Safe and dry. The rain wouldn't come until Sunday. It rained most of the day, and I engaged in my usual pseudo-sleep...caught an ineffective nap in the afternoon. It paired nicely with the previous nights few hours of ineffective "sleep". It's good to be home, but...well...still processing...

Geneva Jo Blazek

My mother passed away on Saturday, August 14th, 2010. She was 74. I still don't think it has fully hit me yet. Still processing. It was not too long ago (3 years or so?) that she was diagnosed with Alzheimers. She had not been feeling right and on the 14th my aunt and uncle found her disoriented on her bedroom floor. She had had a heart attack. In the Emergency Room they detected her dangerously low blood pressure and high heart rate (it appeared to be working over-time to compensate), and worked to get both a bit more stable. By the time visiting hours were over and my aunt and uncle headed home, the news was that she had improved. Not long after they left, the call came that my mom had passed. That fast. The service was Thursday morning. A very small gathering of family graveside. My mom was cremated and buried at the foot of her father's plot. She rests with her parents. Just as she had wanted.

Glenn and I got back to Savannah late this past Saturday night. I intended to make this entry Sunday afternoon/evening, but each time I made my approach to the computer I hit a mental wall. Not sure what to say. My brain is so muddled with...everything...and nothing. It had been roughly fifteen years since I had seen my mom. There were reasons, but they don't matter anymore. It's all history, and history is...well, history. We had started communicating again just a few years ago. Mostly via the postal service. Lately, I had been gearing up to possibly visit her. Over these last few years I had addressed a question a number of times...how would I feel if mom passed away and I had not seen her again? Well, I feel a lot of things. Everything happens for a reason. For whatever reason. I guess all I can say is I'll feel whatever I feel when I feel it...however long it takes.

Mom was an extremely talented artist. She had work in a couple of galleries and had pieces in a few art shows over the years. The potential was definitely there for her to get some serious notice. Oil paints on canvas was her primary medium, and her work was abstract. I'm really happy that I have a couple of her pieces. One I got when I was in Tennessee for the service. She also had a great sense of humor, and was fast with a quip. Anyone who knew her would second that. She was a sharp gal. Quite hip for her age, and very artsy. On a side note: My brother, nephew, and I had a good laugh when we got in mom's car to drive back over to my aunt and uncle's house. Her car is an Audi TT (a really zippy/sporty number), and as we were heading down the road my brother switched on the radio. The car filled with hip hop music. My nephew Karl said, "Grandma Jeep!", and burst into laughter. We all had a good laugh on that. My 74 year old mother driving down the road in that flashy little car with hip hop music pounding away. What an image.

My first visit to her condo was...I want to say weird. It felt weird. Entering her home when she was no longer there. I discovered immediately that I was wrong. She was there. She was in every nook and cranny. Every direction I looked I saw things from the past. From years past. From the time before our extended blackout period (so to speak). Various pieces of furniture. A number of pieces of art she had purchased from artists that she had gotten to know over the years. Many I knew, as well. At times it was difficult. I can't properly articulate just how it was difficult, just like I can't properly articulate the myriad of feelings I'm still trying to sift through now. I'm glad that there were several family members and Glenn with me that first trip to the condo. It helped a lot.

I can't imagine what it must have been like for her to face the future with Alzheimers. In the letters and notes she sent me I could tell of it's effects. Trying to come terms with the fact that eventually you'd pretty much forget who everyone was, where you were...probably even who you are. While in the ER on the 14th she insisted on signing a DNR. No heroic measures. I understand her reasons. As I said, I can't imagine what she must have felt about her future. Someone said that maybe it was a blessing that she passed on now, before she really started to lose her faculties. I suppose. I know she's in a better place. I so hope that she's happy.

The Tide Was High...

The tide got rather high around here this evening. It was a completely different visual experience seeing the marshes submerged like that. As much as I enjoy going for my walks and seeing the wide expanse of green, I kind of wish this level of water was at more of a constant. I had a few pangs of jealousy watching the small boats putting along here and there. A couple of teenage boys in kayaks paddled up our little 'creek' in the back and then back out again. It just looked like such a meditative activity, and I felt myself relax just watching them. Our next door neighbor has a small motor boat he keeps at the bank back here...he'll go out for rides when the tide is in. When I was over by the marsh and the wider expanse looking out at all of that water, he and his brother motored casually by...both of them sitting comfortably back puffing away on a smoke. Wish I could've been out there putting around with them. At some point in the future, I might have to investigate acquiring some sort of small vessel for our amusement. For occasions such as this.

This just in: Glenn said I might want to add the reason why our tide here was abnormally high. Off-shore winds blowing inland made the tide over a foot higher than predicted. Apparently, there's a big storm off shore.

I wonder what the hurricane season is going to be like this year? I know that when the catastrophic events in the gulf were in full swing, the reports were lamenting the fact that the Gulf Coast was supposed to be in for a pretty heavy season. Since I'm not trained in such things, I have no idea of what definite factors effect the trajectory of a hurricane. Savannah does get hit with some heavy storms when a hurricane passes by, but it never gets thrashed by the hurricane proper. Glenn grew up here and said that a hurricane has never hit Savannah. It has seen some heavy storms and flooding, but thankfully it hasn't been hit by an actual 'hurricane'. It would really suck if they said we all had to evacuate. Glenn has mentioned the usual evacuation plan, and it really sucks. There is basically one road out of here that everyone would have to take. We'll probably just stay put if that happens. By the time it was all over, we would probably be sitting in traffic two feet ahead of where we had started. Anyhoo...

Weather is such an unpredictable thing, even though the weather folk would like to think differently. Maybe there will be more offshore winds that will cause the tide to be abnormally high again tomorrow? I can only hope...

Feral Frustrations...

As a cat person I can understand some people wanting to tend to feral cats. That being said, it really irritates me when I see people doing it. We have quite the feral cat problem, and it is supposed to be even worse on Tybee Island. In the condos here they live mostly in the vicinity of our dumpster...big surprise there. I've seen a variety of felines hanging out in the grass. I've even posted photos of one of them I named Vinnie...a big lop-eared tabby who seems to be the king of the colony. When I've been out on walks, I've noticed a collection of black plastic microwave dishes from frozen dinners near the entrance to one of the cat-doms...a huge tent-like area of leafy vines. Have also seen two particular older women lurking around there. They pull their car up to the curb, pop the trunk, and haul out the edibles for the wild hoard. For a split second I'll have a flash of understanding, but once that passes I'm just pissed. Here's why...

Humans are the reason there are feral cats running around. Mostly because of abandonment, and house cats that aren't spayed/neutered being allowed out of doors. What these well meaning (I do understand that my elderly neighbors think they're doing a good deed) individuals don't seem to be grasping is these are not petty-pet-pet cats. The cats come relatively close to them because they see a source of food, not because they want to cuddle. House cats (the ones we raise as pets) pretty much remain in the kitten state. Feral cats are full blown wild animals that form colonies and hunt. Feeding them causes the overpopulation that a lot of places see nowadays. An overpopulation of unhealthy, flea ridden, mangey animals. These are not cats that get a yearly check-up, so they carry all kinds of diseases. I did some reading and Cat Scratch Fever and rabies are the two main diseases, but they also play host to parasite and fecal matter diseases. Not only does this endanger the pet felines roaming around, it can effect humans, as well. Feral cats also out-compete local wildlife via their hunting and killing, which can impact ecosystems. These are all reasons why feeding the feral cats around here is against the law.

Why am I writing about this? The catalyst for my little rant is something I discovered on one of my recent leisurely drives.

While driving down a small road behind some buildings, I came across this little cat hostile. It basically is a small roofed structure that contains kitty 'gym equipment' and several big dishes of cat kibble. The sign isn't really readable in the two pictures I took, but it basically says that the structure has been put there by a non-profit group called the 'Islands feral cat project'. It's unclear as to exactly how they achieve the sites main function...it says it's part of the 'Trap-Neuter-Release' program. I've heard about this approach to trying to solve the feral cat issues. To me it just sounds like they're slapping a band-aid on a huge festering wound. One that's being created by people who, out of the goodness of their hearts, are perpetuating a big problem. I say to the 'cat feeders', instead of adding to a growing problem that is already a bit out of control, give your love and attention to a shelter cat. One that is a viable pet candidate and needs a loving home. We have enough of a problem with there being to many homeless pets. Stop adding to a problem that is just bad every way you look at it. Bad for us, bad for the cats, bad for nature...just bad!

Our next-door neighbor, Anthony, submitted a business plan/proposal to the condo powers that be about building a new dock for the residents of the condos to use. It's in the permits process at the moment (these things always take time), but it's all looking good and chances are a new dock will be going up. (It'll go where the current dock carcass is...the one I've taken and posted a number of pictures of.) We are one of several condos that use the same entrance, and if this dock plan does happen we will be getting our own private gated entrance. According to the plans, the new entrance will cut through this side of the community dumpster (all of the condos use the one dumpster/compactor). This side of the dumpster, and right through feral cat central. One day awhile ago I was walking out in front of the building and saw Anthony. Asked him how things were going with the dock, and I threw in something about the cats and the women here who feed them. There had been a meeting about the proposal and residents were urged to show up and voice any questions and/or concerns. Had the feral cat caretakers shown up to complain? Anthony said, no. I did learn that the gals had been told by law enforcement to cease and desist with the cat feeding, but they obviously have ignored the warnings. Well...if and when the dock plans go into effect and construction begins, I'll be curious to see if anyone raises a stink.

As I said before, I dig cats. I understand what the women's reasons most likely are for doing what they deem to be a good deed. That being said, they need to look at the big picture here. They're making a really bad situation worse. I hate to say it, but if fining them (or whatever the laws state) is the only way to deter them then so be it. There are just too many healthy, loving kitty's that need good homes. That's where their energies should be focused.

Looking Around...

You would think in the amount of time I have lived over here in this beautiful place called Savannah, I would've seen more of it. Walks in the immediate area have been plentiful...my blog entries and the accompanying photos are testament to that. However, most areas of the island have been unexplored by the likes of me. Until lately, that is.

It all started not too long ago when I talked Glenn into going for a Sunday drive. Some who read this may have seen the accompanying video I posted on Facebook using pictures I snapped during the outing. It was really nice. Situated where we are on the Atlantic Coast, there are so many opportunities to see marshland, water, docks, boats, etc. The cloud formations here aren't too shabby either. I can't think of many days where photo opportunities haven't presented themselves. It is just so beautiful here. And magical. The elements of many of my photos may be the same, but the photos themselves are not. They have their own individual scene and mood. The drive with Glenn was a catalyst. I've started going on more frequent drives. Checking out sections of our island. Discovering things I hadn't seen before. My drives aren't very long (the island isn't that big) and Glenn opts to sit them out most times, but they've been exciting in their way. And relaxing.

The majority of this portion of Savannah is homes. Neighborhoods. Not necessarily rural, but there aren't a lot of businesses. Houses and condos mostly. Today (Thursday) was a drive of about 45 minutes. Sans Glenn. I took the above photo on a small neighborhood street in an area that supposedly claims Ms. Paula Deene (msp?) as a resident. I mostly watched her show on the Food Network in the early days of its' airing, and some of the houses fit. Could be hers'. At some point her show was moved to a studio setting...apparently a number of her neighbors complained. Don't know if it was due to lookie-loos, or production staff, but...there ya go. Was hoping to see others snapping pictures of what would be her house, but no such luck. Think that's what the neighbors wanted. Not to have a bunch of rubber necking fans bogging down their streets.


I love my little drives. With each one I feel more in tune with life here. Today I took some recycling to the local dump, grabbed a paper, a mocha Frappe from Mickey-D's (yum!) and set off on my leisurely adventure. After hitting the neighborhood that supposedly called Paula Deene a denizen, I headed to another subdivision I had passed a number of times, but hadn't explored. There are a couple of small lakes (believe they're man-made) with fountains by the main entrance, so I photographed one (above). Nice neighborhood. It's pleasantly strange, but for the number of neighborhoods around here they're all unique in their way. Don't think I can really even articulate how they're different, they just...are. This is one of those cases of 'you'd have to see them to get what I mean'. This was followed by a couple more subdivisions. Lots of nice houses. The newer of the places I checked out had kind of a cookie cutter thing going on, which I don't really like, but it had lots of docks since most homes were on marshy water. The last area I checked out before heading home was by far my favorite. If I was in the market for a house, this is where I would be looking.

I was thinking about heading home when I got back to the main road that would lead me there. I noticed a smaller road directly across from me. It trailed off into a darker area. The moss covered trees were a bit denser, which made it appear moodier and more mysterious. Didn't take me long to decide to hop across the road and check this narrower lane out. I glanced at the sign as I pulled onto the street. Whipporwill Road. By the name alone I knew I was going to like it back there. As I slowly advanced up the road, the trees hung tightly to the sides. I could see evidence of a house peering through the branches here and there. The driveways interchanged between paved and gravel, and most wound off into the forest and disappeared. I was really digging it. Yes, it was a bit darker here, but not in a bad way. I mentioned back at the beginning of this entry about how magical Savannah feels. Well, that's exactly how this area felt to me. Magical. Didn't feel forboding or oppressive like some might think. About two-thirds of the way up the road, another branched off to the left, and some houses appeared. They weren't what I thought. All were a couple of stories high and were beautiful. They definitely didn't look cheap. But, none of the waterfront property here is cheap, and being on an island most homes are on water. I continued up the road and could make out the end ahead. It was a dead end. As I got closer, I noticed it lightened up a bit and all I could see were the colors of deep blue and deep green. I was approaching water. Open water. As I neared the spot and the view got bigger, it was water as far as the eye could see. I stopped at the end of the road and looked out at the beautiful scene. At home we do get water at high tides in the 'creek' out back (I've posted a lot of high tide pictures here on my blog and on Facebook), but we're on a bluff. What I was looking at here at the end of Whipporwill road was a different story. The land here is about water level. If I walked up to the water's edge, I could seemingly go from solid ground to the wet surface. It was just breathtaking. I so wanted to get out of the truck and take several pictures, but there was a house right next to me and I didn't feel comfortable getting out for a photo op since I was solo. I kind of felt like I would be intruding. So I stayed in the truck and snapped off this one photo before leaving:

I plan to return to the spot in the future and when Glenn is with me. I would love to get a few more photos of the incredible view.

So, I made my way home, feeling relaxed and more in tune with things. Looking forward to my next adventure...

That Fiddler Is A Crab...

Well, it has taken me a considerable amount of time to get back to my blog. Can't say that I've been negligent...my sleep has been off as usual, so it throws everything else off as a result.

It's become rather clear to me that to maintain my personal semblance of sanity, I need to venture out of doors each day for a stroll and some picture taking. We've been getting our usual daily 30-40% chance of thunderstorms report, but out of the last week's worth of said reports we've only had one afternoon/evening of rain. It got rather torrential, too. Perfection. Every day we do get our share of full and billowy thunderhead clouds, accompanied by the rumblings of thunder. I see it as the Savannah sky toying with me...promising me something that it's most likely not going to deliver on. These empty promises usually appear in the mid-afternoon and carry through the evening hours. Don't get me wrong...I'd much rather have the slices of promise than nothing. I've developed quite an interest...change that...a fondness for the clouds here on the Georgia coast. Practically on a daily basis I'm entertained with some of the most abstractly spectacular cloud displays. Various shades of white, gray, and blue to blue-gray. The thunderhead clouds (the ones that could indicate an impending storm) are the most enjoyable to watch. Sections seem to explode slowly out in stark round edged puffs...you can actually see the movements happening. The various hued clouds pass over and behind one another giving such eerie dimension and depth. They are like strokes within an animated painting. I've been photographing them a lot lately. There is something so inspiring there.

Day before yesterday I went out for a quick walk around the homestead here. It was in the neighborhood of 6:00 or 7:00pm. I headed down to the cul de sac down by the marshes and water...I often start my strolls there. Per usual, I had the camera with me. I feel like I've been slightly redundant with the photos I've been posting in the last number of weeks (both here and on Facebook), snapping photos in the same places. I always seem to find something new though. Something that I just hadn't noticed on previous visits, or something that is making it's presence newly known. This particular walk was no exception.

Once at the cul de sac, I wandered it's edge looking for things to photograph. Exploring. As I wandered around the curve I came around to the weathered carcass of dock remains that have appeared in quite a few of my photos. I love that spot. Think I've caught it in quite a few of it's moods. This time was to be different. There is a dip down a small bank to the muddy marsh floor around the decaying posts that once held up the dock. I could hear the faint sound of...well, scurrying. That's the best description I can give. But, the scurrying of a lot of 'things'. Slowly, I walked over to the bank and surveyed the mud. That's when I saw what looked like several hundred little creatures running around the marsh bed. They were small crabs. Fiddler crabs. The number and movement of them made the mud seem to undulate. As I watched them zipping around the brown surface of the mud (they were actually kind of hard to spot as they blended in), I noticed something move out of the corner of my eye. I quickly looked to my right and saw several of the small crabs weaving their way through the leaves and twigs covering the ground beneath and around my feet. I snapped shots of a few of them before they disappeared into the blanket of leaves pushing up against a small section of chain-link fence that skirted the top of the bank. Then I noticed a couple scurrying from patch of grass to patch of grass. They looked kind of comical flitting along in their sideways motion. I noticed that one of them had paused...or froze, not really sure which description is best. The chance to get a close-up of one had presented itself. As I lowered the lens of the camera in close, he seemed to freak out a little and took a few sideways steps in the direction of the leaves. Didn't want to hurt the little guy. I noticed a dry, brown, long and sinewy leaf/frond from a palm of some sort. I grabbed it and used it as kind of a gentle prod coaxing him over into a more advantages spot for a photo. Managed to get a couple before he clearly showed that he was ready to disappear with his buddies. Thanked him as he made his escape, and I looked to the wide open space of the marshes.

It was fairly gray...the usual time of possible thunder and rain was in full swing, so the calming effect was definitely there. I find such peace at those times. There are no real sounds of 'man' here...no cars, no sirens, no helicopters. Here my ears are not assaulted by noise. I hear the rhythms of nature. Could say that it's so quiet here, which it is compared to where I lived for 18 or so years (L.A.), but if you listen...really listen...you can hear the things that man has muted by 'progress' (i.e. cities). I had walked over toward the marshes and was standing by a couple of trees. I saw something small and dark zip around the tree at about my eye level. I walked around the tree and saw scurrying around to the opposite side another crab. Tried to snap a photo of the little guy, but he was too busy playing cat and mouse with me. Got a couple, but they're not worth sharing. Back to the marsh. With the graying sky came a strong and welcome breeze. It has been extremely hot here, and the humidity drives the heat index through the roof. Lately it's been in the 110+ range. The breeze was very welcome. The sound of the leaves and branches of the trees stirring around joined the faint whistle of it. The cat tails edging the marsh were bowing and dancing, as well. The cooling of the breeze made the moist layer covering me (due to the humidity) not quite as annoying. A slow walk along the marshes with the calm ethereal caressing of the breeze was wonderful, and just what I needed. My daily fix. The best medicine.

I made it halfway to the pond, but it was starting to get dark. My time for picture taking was drawing to a close. I really want to get a camera suited to night time photography at some point in the not too distant future. So, my walk drew to a close. Home for something to eat before settling down in front of the tube.