Musical Echoes

This weekend I attended a Native American music festival, taking in the beauty and majesty of the culture…. as well as enjoying great food.

Throughout the day exceptionally talented flutists performed, some bringing a dozen or more different instruments on stage during their session. The songs were moving and achingly beautiful.

Each performer would also offer stories about their music, either telling folktales about the first flutes, or about what the songs were saying. A few of the performers also sang in their native language… it was amazing.

Seems that I can’t find enough superlatives to describe the event, but suffice to say I stayed the whole day.

And the dancers, in full regalia… I was literally on the edge of my chair watching.

One of the dancers explained that their regalia was like a family photo album. With different pieces handed down through generations or given as gifts from friends. He said that the dances also told a story.

The Hoop Dance, performed by two different dancers, using anywhere from one to 24 hoops, showed the connection between every one and every thing. We all play an integral part in this world, he said, and we have to work together to conquer hate.

Wearing a long skirt, adorned with 365 sliver cones, the Jingle Dancer performed a healing dance. Her movements adding a soft chiming sound to the music.

Traditional men and women’s dance were also performed, both somber and exciting to watch.

If you ever have a chance to attend such a festival, go! The dancers and musicians love sharing their talents and culture, and you will be richer for it.

You can click on any image to see a larger photo, or the series as a slideshow.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

Submitted to Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City

Oakland: forgotten cemetery

Before heading out for my weekly photo hike, I put out a question to my online friends, asking them where I should go… beach, woods, cemetery or backroads. The vote, overwhelmingly, was cemetery.

My friend Kath, suggested the venue first, saying a cemetery would be a good place to photograph, in honor of a short story I’m writing with fellow blogger Lance, he of “My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.”

(If you’re interested in the escapades of our heroines, Pauley and Vivian/Millicent, check out “Pauley” in the header nav bar.)

One of my favorite cemeteries to visit is St. Michael’s in Pensacola. It’s located near downtown and is steeped in regional history. After doing a little Google-recon, I found an old graveyard in Panama City to visit – Oakland Cemetery.

Where St. Michael’s is well-maintained and manicured, Oakland is…. sad. So many of the grave stones were toppled and broken. Ledger stones worn smooth over time. Sand and weeds obscuring any legible names or dates.

Many of the stones marked graves of Civil War soldiers, Union infantrymen from as far away as Michigan. One section of the cemetery, spanning almost the entire width of the park, two burial sites deep, was all children. Perhaps the devastating result of an epidemic.

Where St. Michael’s is garden-like, peaceful and serene. Oakland left me sorrowful and restless. Heartbroken that these graves had seemingly been forgotten.

You can click on any image to see a larger photo, or the series as a slideshow.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

Submitted to Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City

Juniper Lake

This week I headed back to one of my favorite stomping grounds - Blackwater River State Park near Holt, FL. Every time I hike there, I find something new.

Walking around Juniper Lake, I wandered off the trail (luckily, my smartphone has a compass and GPS), and found the abandoned pilings from an old boardwalk. The path was lost through the underbrush, but the trail head was still visible, and much too tempting to not go exploring. I had to wonder why the boardwalk was taken down… I need to concoct a story about it.

I will admit, I was also hunting for alligators, but was only able to scare up a couple of little green and brown lizards, and a fat, muddy swamp turtle. Better luck next time…

You can click on any image to see a larger photo, or the series as a slideshow.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

Submitted to Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City

Personal Pequod

His gruff persona was as iconic as the lighthouse standing vigil on the knoll above the marina. If you were in the harbor when he returned from a voyage, you would spy him at the helm of his boat, greasy ball cap shoved down over his bald pate, his eyes barely visible. His characteristic oil cloth Grundens, slick with ocean spray, snapped to his chin.

The aroma of crab pots, emptied of their bugs and stacked on the starboard side of the deck, entice a squabble of gulls, cawing their discontent over having no morsels to steal. Life-preservers, once bright safety orange, now faded to a dull vermillion, serve as dock bumpers.

The enigmatic captain was the epitome of Ahab, and his trawler, his personal Pequod. His Moby wasn’t a Great White, instead the monster he chased after was unknown to even him. All he knew was he longed for the sea, that he only felt at home in deep water.

He stayed in port only long enough to sell his catch, and take on supplies. His family stopped coming into greet him long ago, so long that no one remembered he was married. His wife would tell strangers she was a widow and her children fatherless, true enough it was.

When he died, few mourned his passing. The absence of the caricature of who he was, noticed far more than the real person he was. His legacy, a plaque at the local fishing museum and a meager display of his handcrafted lures, was all that remained of his life.

Submitted to WordPress Weekly Writing Challenge. This week the theme was to “snap a photo of something that is iconic to you… write a story using your picture.”

This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “If I were to do it all over again,” and/or “Orange.”

*Living on the Gulf Coast of Florida, near the “The World’s Luckiest Fishing Village,” crab traps are as ubiquitous, and iconic, as seagulls on the beaches.

Off the beaten path

I’ve mentioned before how much I love having a state park practically in my backyard. I can hike and kayak there, and with my annual pass, it’s some of the best money I’ve ever spent.

With Spring Break still in full swing, I’m staying close to home to avoid both the beach crowds and insane traffic. What I didn’t anticipate, and I should have, was that the park would also be inundated with extra people.

It was a beautiful day for a hike, even with the added foot traffic. I took Asta with me, and enjoyed having my little Chester along for the fun. We took a lap around one of the two park trails. One trail hugs the bayou shore and the other, the one we took, wends around what used to be a lake.

Preserve restorations on the lake have helped it revert back to the natural wetland-creek that it once was. We tracked an ibis for a while, and scared a troop of turtles sunning on a log. Unlike our other Lab, who contrary to her dog instincts hates water, Asta is going to be a swimmer. I may have to get her a life vest and take her canoeing this summer. That will make for some interesting photo opps.

You can click on any image to see a larger photo, or the series as a slideshow.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

Submitted to Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City

Spring break’s lost weekend

Frat boys linger late at the bar, throwing out baitless pick-up lines at all the pretty girls misbehavin’ for the lovin’ and attention. Gobsmacked by their lack of success, blaming rejection on the game and not their feeble hunting techniques.

All popped collars, and gelled hair, believing they’re irresistable and not just ridiculous. Puffed out chests, and puffed out egos, clipped wings that can’t soar off balconies, falling short of the concrete ponds.

Twenty-one shots in the dark hit the spot until the morning their whole weekend is lost. A souvenir from their first time away from home.

The 100 Word Challenge is to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is ‘Misbehavin’

*Spring Break has brought hundreds, if not thousands, of college co-eds to our beaches. Every year there are reports of some drunken reveler being injured falling from a resort balcony trying to jump into the hotel pool. I haven’t read about any balcony divers yet this year, but there were more than 200 arrests for underage drinking in the first two weeks of the season.

Green thumb: spring gardening

A few weeks ago I weeded my two raised planters (the extent of my gardening ambitions), and this weekend, I finally got my spring planting done.

I put in a few strawberry starters, a new adventure for me since I’ve never tried to raise fruit before. The Mister wanted me to try, so… I dedicated a single planter for the experiment.

In the other, I have jalapeños (a plant I’ve had a lot of success with) and a few herbs – Thai basil, and cilantro, along with a pot of chocolate mint. Not sure what I’ll do with the mint, but it smells wonderful.

Over the past several years, I’ve usually put in tomatoes, but this year I’m trying something different with them too.

My planters sit in the far southern corner of my backyard, where I suspect they don’t get a sufficient amount of direct sun – I have lovely plants, but they suffer from bloom drop. I’ve rarely had more than a half a dozen toms ripen to maturity.

This year, I’m trying to raise my toms in patio pots, which I can position on my… wait for it… patio, where they can get adequate light. I hope this works, because there is something magical about the taste of homegrown tomatoes eaten fresh from the vine.

I have a little more room in one planter, so I plan to get in some more gardening this week. I just need to decide what I want. Suggestions welcome, fruit or veggies – Northwest Florida, Hardiness Zone 8B.

You can click on any image to see a larger photo, or the series as a slideshow.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

Submitted to Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City