My Island My Playground

there will be peace

I’ve done something unusual today. I am on my porch writing. I am in my daughter’s alcove. It’s where she comes outside to smoke, on her too brief, visits with me. It’s on the street side of my home, where I have two, white rockers, in between a round table, covered with a nice table cloth from a second hand shop, around the corner.

It’s almost becoming too light, for me, to feel at ease, out here, in my bathrobe. In my too thick, soft, warm and embracing coat of comfort ~

2 the easing or alleviation of a person’s feelings of grief or distress: a few words of comfort | they should take comfort that help is available. • [in singular] a person or thing that helps to alleviate a difficult situation: his friendship was a great comfort. 3 US dialect a warm quilt. 

The wind blows hard through the tree, across the street. It makes the rushing sound of impending rain. Rain that will pass us by, today, The bird, that sang alone, is now in concert, with others near by and blocks down the road.

The first car passed at 5:26. They were in a hurry.

I took the picture above, in yesterday’s evening. Around the bend were hoards of people. Everyone enjoying themselves. Children swimming, on the edge of the dangerous currents, of the Nassau River. Not a care in the world.

Back to my right, are fishermen. Some good and others, not so good.

We had to leave when the fish started biting, due to one of the many laws and regulations, here on Amelia Island. You cannot be on the beach, after sundown.

I took all of the comfort that I could out get, in my afternoon hours, walking with my feet in the sand. Smiling at all of the people; Latin, Asian, People of Color and Anglos. We were of different cultures. We were all mixto, and no problemo.

But not far down the road in Jacksonville, there is protest and riots, in the streets. They are working towards compromise, but I can’t help but feel, that the white people want the black people back in their cage.

I am a wild thing.

I live on this Island, that is over run. It is being inhabited by greed. The greedy ~

greed·y| ˈɡrēdē | adjective (greedier, greediest) having or showing an intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth or power: greedy thieves who plundered a defense contractor. • having an excessive desire or appetite for food. ~

Everyone wants their slice, but the pie is only so big.

So, the Island has become pie in the sky.

I sit on my porch and enjoy the breeze, momentarily, unhindered by the stench of the mill. I enjoy nature and I wait on it’s Mother.

She will have the final say so.

There will be peace.

There is peace.

Be Still and Know ~

You’re Going to Die!!!!!!!!!

Yes and No

We are born, to soon learn, that we are going to die.

I really don’t know about other people’s inner lives. Communication has a way of drifting. It’s ethereal. And yet, it’s can be heavy, as a tombstone. An albatross. A spirit of unrelenting fear. Or, it can be as equally uplifting as a hot air balloon. Raising you above, to elevate you, and present a wide angle view. A unique and exhilarating vista.

I have experienced both.

I am a part of humanity. I accept it. I surrender. I give in.

But when other people share with me their optical illusion of life, such as; Continue reading You’re Going to Die!!!!!!!!!

The Town Hall Meeting

This was not my first and probably won’t be my last. My husband, myself, and a friend, walked out, when one of the commissioners touted his insights on the situation. He was more than I could bear.

The lights bounced of his bald head, as he sniveled and whined his opinions. His mannerisms were authoritative and condescending. His name is Chapman. His words were so disruptive to my inner universe that he transformed into a movie character; one that you know is going to have something bad happen to him, before the film ends. And when it does, the audience will feel grateful. It’s appropriate karma. Continue reading The Town Hall Meeting

Motor Boat Motor Boat – Go So Slow

Fishing FourMotor boat, motor boat, go so slow. Motor boat, motor boat, go so fast. Motor boat, motor boat, step on the gas.

Does anyone else remember this children’s nursery rhyme. Once you said, run so fast, you would take off running. I look around at people and they seem to be running hard to go nowhere. I prefer to take it easy.

The waves are always going to be rolling in. You never know about people.

It’s a matter of value, and I know where I stand; straight in the middle and to the right of the red bass.

I’m keeping my priorities straight.

Donny’s Dead

Donny got his wings.

He didn’t die with his boots on. He was barefoot.

My Dear Donny,

We played a lot of music together. I’ve been missing that music, for a long time.

I’ve not been writing long posts. Who has the time to read them? Who has the time to write them?

But Donny’s life is worthy of words. He should have been a star/was a star. Donny was like an old time, country music legend. The way he looked, the way he lived and the way he played his songs. Continue reading Donny’s Dead

Lucky 3X’s

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IMG_5645Meet Sean Poynter

Last year, Sept 9th, courtesy of Hurricane Leslie, we had waves here on Amelia. I had surfed earlier in the day and was just cruising the beach. I had my camera in the car, so I headed to a spot I thought might be working. I could hear an announcer over a loud-speaker. There was a contest going on. It was an ESA event, along with what is called the King of the Peak, challenge.

What Seneca, a philosopher, once said, ” Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.” I stepped out of my car, and went to work. I have hundreds of pictures from that day. Continue reading Lucky 3X’s

Stoke!

ac6d837fb69e91869e6c87aac10bacd8The word stoke has a surf connotation.

However, my first recollection of its use was to fuel a fire; whether to give the burning wood air, to keep the flame ablaze, or throwing on another log. Stoke meant expending energy to keep things going. In this case, fire.

Pre-Columbia, our island’s first known inhabitants were the Timicuan Indians. In the above picture, you see the fire tenders, in the center of the compound. Their job was imperative, as the fire was necessary for their survival.

In the forefront, a dugout canoe is being hand crafted. Being on the water, was another essential part of life.

On Amelia, many years have passed, since the Indians walked their paths, to the sea.

But the trail has not been left cold. Continue reading Stoke!

Dear Journal

Dear Journal,

I have been working; photographing the cutest surfers ever.

IMG_8157 IMG_8145IMG_8205I told you.

I just completed the third week of surf camp. I have the simple job of creating photo packages for the parents, who purchased, The Super~ Secondhand Surfer~ Photo Package. I have a quota of pics, that I promised. And, of course, I want them to be good.

There is an easier way to do this, and I am working on that.

As far as suiting up and showing up, I might as well be working for Surf Magazine; the energy that I put into this.

It’s very exciting, to watch the kids learn about the ocean, surfing and just having fun in general.

Unfortunately, we had two days with a heat index over 105 degrees.

Luckily for me, I own an O’Neil, broad brimmed, straw hat, with a lining. It’s like wearing an umbrella, on my head.photo-2

I sometimes get in the water with an Olympus TG-2.   I have to switch hats for that. When in the water I rely on my black Local, Pipeline ball cap.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe pictures I’m getting are fun.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I’m having a problem with that camera. I have to ship it back to Amazon, for an exchange.

Such is the life of a surf photographer.

Journal, I just wanted to report in.

It’s all good.

P.S. Meet Preston

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERALike a post script to a letter, I must add more about Preston. He’s the first surfer in my last entry, Artist Update.

Preston came through the door of the Pipeline Surf Shop, last Monday, saying hello and introducing himself to everyone.

Here he is after five days of surf, enjoying the Friday, end of camp, Luau.

There is no one like Preston.

He’s the Man!

P.S. What a great week.