Life and Death in the Desert and The Intelligence of Nature

Desolation in the Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

In the process of writing my book, I have come across many photographs I made during my cross country journey that are striking a chord with me now.   Sometimes people succumb to the mistaken impression that they are more powerful than nature.  Yes, the hand of man has done many things to harm the environment by being out of balance, but when it really comes down to it nature is more powerful.   These ruins were from the town of Kelso.  Today, the mission revival style former depot located down the street serves as a visitor center, while this is what has become of the town around it.  I am not alone in being fascinated by ruins; many people are drawn to them likely because they show what becomes of the havens we construct to "protect" ourselves from the elements the instant we begin to neglect them.  Nature can be harsh and inhabitable for human beings when we don't work with the environment.

Sunrise, Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Though there are hardly any people residing or even visiting the Mojave National Preserve, in comparison with other National Parks, it is teeming with life.  In fact, the Mojave Desert is one of the most diverse places in the entire southwest in terms of wildlife, with 38 species of amphibians and reptiles, 50 species of mammals, 300 kinds of birds, and even a native fish in the two ponds within the preserve.  In the springtime, there are carpets of desert sand verbena and dunes evening primrose, but even in the fall the desert plants were abundant and beautiful though non-flowering.  This sunrise was one of the most spectacular moments of my journey.  To get to the Mojave Desert, I'd driven straight through on I-5, the real wasteland, from Redding to Nipton.  The moment I got out of my car and stepped foot on the desert, I could feel the energy of all the life around me.

Joshua Trees, Mojave Desert ©Lynne Buchanan

Even after the sun had risen, nature continued to put on a magnificent show that morning, as dramatic clouds filled the sky and the light was soft enough to subtly illuminate the desert floor studded with Joshua trees and the mountains behind.  Yucca moths lay their eggs in the pollinated flowers of Joshua trees and disperse the seeds, while 25 bird species nest in them, and lizards and other invertebrates use them for shelter.  These tree homes look in much better shape than the houses the gold miners built and abandoned.   Afterwards, I visited the cinder cone lava beads and the Kelso dunes, before heading on my way to the Grand Canyon.  There is something that speaks to my soul when I see plants and animals survive and thrive in seemingly hostile conditions, and I know it is because they have learned to work with the environment instead of fighting against it...

A Recent Excursion on the St John's River Near Blue Springs...

St. John's River Near Blue Springs ©Lynne Buchanan

A couple of weeks ago, I went kayaking on the St. John's River to make some images for my upcoming river exhibition.  I rented a cabin in Blue Springs State Park and put in the river right there, paddling up towards the Hontoon Island landing, although I didn't make it all the way there.  This part of the river was so intriguing, I had to stop.  I loved how the clouds and lily plants in the river paralleled each other yet were different. When I think about life and meaningful relationships we have with anyone, whether natural elements or people in our lives,  things seem to be smoothest when we are going in similar directions yet respecting our uniqueness.  Differences add dimensions to our experiences in life.  If everyone or every bend in the river were  the same, it would get pretty boring, yet we also want to balance and support one another.  While I sat in my kayak and watched and photographed, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace and harmony.

Sky and Water Epiphany, St. John's © Lynne Buchanan

The beauty of one aspect of a relationship, the sky in this example, creates more depth and beauty in the water that reflects it.  Oh to be a mirror for such wonderment...

There is Light in the Darkness ©Lynne Buchanan

On the way back towards the park, more and more clouds filled the sky and the sun was veiled behind them.  Yet, at the same time its brilliance could not be contained and broke out in all directions.  It is this way in my life sometimes too.  Though I have faced many challenges, as everyone does, I always know the light is still there waiting to cast its golden rays on everything it touches.  And without the dark, we would never know the light. Having felt despair, joy becomes even more beautiful and miraculous.  Life is filled with ups and downs and each is always contained in the other.

Nursing Manatees in the Form of a Cross ©Lynne Buchanan

Life is sacred.  If there was ever a doubt in my mind it was erased when I saw these two young manatees nursing their mother.  The young manatees flanked her and flayed to the side creating a cross.  It was so perfect and balanced and intimate.  Though my children are long grown, I will never forget the beauty of nurturing new life.  To see this exhibited by any species is a gift.

Anhinga Facing Dark Skies ©Lynne Buchanan

Though the skies were darkening the Anhinga still stretched its wings and lifted its head, facing whatever was to come.  In this case, it was only ominous looking skies–the weather retreated.  We never know what is coming.  Sometimes it seems there might be a dark cloud, but when it will blow over is a mystery.  Instead of feeling beaten down by storms in nature or within our own hearts, it is best not to retreat and close up but to spread or wings and keep the dream of flying alive.

Eagle Watching ©Lynne Buchanan

Whenever I am blessed to see an eagle, it always gives me courage and hope.  They are brave and have penetrating vision.  The lesson they teach me is that though they see clearly what is in the world, they stay strong and fly high.  

Fall Color and Reflections on the St. John's ©Lynne Buchanan

The following morning, I got up just before sunrise and paddled out onto the river.  I went down a little inlet into this amazing watery section of Hontoon Island.  The water was so still because nothing had moved on it before me.  I stopped paddling and just floated, not wanting to create any disturbance and mesmerized by the reflections.  There were these sharp lily pads in the foreground and they and the patterns formed by the tree trunks would have been enough to excite me.  To have gorgeous red fall foliage too was beyond my wildest expectations.  These are the rewards you receive that mean the most–the ones you least expect or in any way have tried to demand.  The colors were so vivid in the early morning light.  The soft energizing light illuminated everything perfectly.  I thought, if there is a heaven this is it.

Fall Color Amid the Spanish Moss, St. John's River ©Lynne Buchanan

I know that the St. John's River faces many issues stemming from overdevelopment, agriculture, fertilizers, and other byproducts of human impact.  In the coming months, I will be working with the St. John's Riverkeeper and visiting other areas of the river that are suffering more from these issues than this comparatively undeveloped section is facing.  When I start any project like this, I prefer to begin with appreciating the beauty, so that I am aware of what I am trying to help protect through my work.  It is important to realize why we want to save our rivers and what we are at risk of losing...

Lost and Found in White Sands

White Sands with Starburst ©Lynne Buchanan

It has been just over a year since I returned from my incredible 13,000+ mile solo cross country journey, the whole point of which was to lose and find myself.  I am over 250 pages into my book about this experience and as I am writing, I am revisiting the photographs I made on the trip.  While I was traveling, I was also trying to process a few photographs and write this blog.  Often, I did not have time to really go through all the photographs and am finding lots of wonderful images I didn't catch then.  I did have to leave time for a little sleep.  Three months was a long time to be on the road.

When I arrived at White Sands, it was late in the afternoon.  The ranger groaned when she saw me and said, "Oh, you're a photographer.  You're the ones that always get lost out here.  You always get so caught up in taking photographs that you forget to look where you came from." I promised I wouldn't do that, and then I went out wandering through the dunes.  At first, I kept looking back, mindful of her warning and not wanting to be a further embarrassment to my profession.  Then the sky started to do what it is doing in the image above (the color version is at the end of this blog).  The sun was heading lower and lower into the sky and I knew it would hit the mountains and make a wonderful starburst.  I started running with my tripod, to get into a position where I could frame a composition I liked with the yucca, dunes, mountains and clouds.  I was practically hyperventilating and I completely forgot where I came from.  I'd also gone over many dunes to get past where the footprints were, so the only ones I saw were mine and I couldn't find the ones that had led me to this place.  It was going to get dark soon and I had no idea what was out there.  I consoled myself by noting that I'd left the grizzlies back in Montana and Wyoming.  It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Fortunately, as I was wandering back, I ran into a couple from the air force out walking their dog.  I told them my story of getting lost and they laughed and led me in the right direction back to my car, allowing me to save face this time.  Still, there is something so freeing about realizing that you have gotten 100 percent lost in the moment; that all you are doing it reacting to what is and celebrating it with ever fibre of your soul.  

The Way of the Ridges ©Lynne Buchanan

The next morning, I got up and arrived at the park as soon as it opened, driving as far back as I could so I could hike in a remote area once again.  I had a couple of bottles of water with me and realized that I better not get lost, because I could end of very thirsty.  Again there was no one there, but I remembered what had happened the night before and this time I kept looking for signs and physical formations I could follow like this ridge.  I counted the dunes I crossed, remembered  peaks and valleys, as well as patterns and textures.  It was a different kind of being in the moment, a kind of being that reminded me of when I used to play that game as a child where people say a word and then have to repeat what everyone said before them.  It is a being in the moment that is aware of connections and history without getting stuck in the past.  What a wonderful exercise for my brain and it worked, mainly because I was paying more attention to what was on the ground and I wasn't losing my head in the clouds like I often do.

White Sands with Full Moon ©Lynne Buchanan

That's not to say that there weren't interesting clouds in the sky and I did notice an almost full moon above a crater-like formation on the earth.  White Sands is so barren and strange that sometimes I felt like I was on another planet, although I definitely wasn't weightless and free.  The sand is so powdery and white and it was definitely strenuous slogging through all the sand, but worth every ounce of physical exertion.

I only stayed until the late morning, because I knew I had to get out of there.  A giant storm was brewing that chased me all the way across the country from there to Florida, and I still had to get through the mountains of New Mexico, so I could make it to Texas and had head south.  

I am sure it was the storm that had created the amazing clouds the night before and which continued to add drama to the sky.  The image below is the starburst photo in color.  The sky was so colorful, I actually had to tone it down a little bit.  When it was all happening, I couldn't believe my eyes.  Who can blame me for getting lost.  Which image do you prefer, color or black and white?

Rust as Spiritual Chemistry

Rust as Spiritual Chemistry © Lynne Buchanan
Multi Media: Photo Transfer and Acrylic Paint

For the past couple of months, I have been working on a new process combining photographs and acrylic painting.  This process has been highly liberating for me and also affords a way to combine what I see in the world with my spiritual unfolding in a way that I was unable to achieve through straight photography alone–no matter how much post processing I did. 

This piece was made starting with a photo transfer of an image I made in Cuba of a rusted piece of metal attached to the outside of a building.  Everything in Cuba is being worn by the elements in a truly fascinating way, in large part due to the fact that a can of paint can cost as much as a month's salary.  Consequently, many materials are left to be weathered by the elements with no artificial chemicals or preservatives.  A natural process of decomposition occurs and particularly with respect to metal, the process is incredibly beautiful.

There were many amazing patterns within the rust and I carried those through to the borders.  The edges of the transfer broke down and the separations began to disappear, so that the process of creation was simultaneously one of decomposition–just as the evolution to our higher Self involves the destruction of many past stories of ourselves.  While painting around and within the transfer, I became lost in my own process, as colors and patterns evoked more feelings within me, feelings that bordered on the numinous.  

At the same time I have been working on this process, I have also been doing a lot of meditating.  During these mediations, I have realized that the vast blank slate I always sunk into before is actually filled with pulsating potentialities–shimmering moments within the timelessness that bear no resemblance to any realistic forms but are more like lighting bolts, arrows, and swirling passageways to a realm that is unknowable and yet reveals hints of its existence in a tapestry within my mind.

My journeys into this strange universe have been occurring so frequently and my explorations have deepened so profoundly that I now catch glimpses into this other world by looking at ordinary things like this piece of rusted metal without even needing to meditate.  I know the fragments of the known world I begin with will evolve into a whole universe for me during my process, although how it will evolve is not clear until it happens, moment by moment.  Nothing has every focused my attention so clearly on the present moment, and yet at the same time everything I have seen and experienced, every painting, every natural element, every revelation I've ever been gifted with are also present.  Yet, I am not consciously thinking of these influences while I am creating, since I am so in the moment.  Rather, they have burned so deeply into my being that they exist in my unconscious waiting to be called forth and shared.

The Taino, Kiribi, and the Toa River

Thomas Kaokao ©Lynne Buchanan

Probably the most meaningful day of the trip to Cuba for me was our visit to the Toa Duana, a Taino Indian site, watching a dance performance at a Kiribi Indian Village, and taking a boat ride on the Tao, which I opted to go on alone with a guide while the rest of my traveling companions had lunch at Rancho Toa.  

The major reason this day was so memorable was the immediate and profound soul connection I experienced with Thomas Kaokao.  Thomas is a retired farmer and plays the gourd.  While he was accompanying the dancers, he and I connected with our hearts to the point that it brought tears to our eyes.  We made hand gestures and I knew without a doubt that the eyes are the windows to the soul.  Nothing quite like this has ever happened to me with this level of intensity before.  He was so open and the love that he radiated was so pure and boundless.  After the performance was over, I went to our guide and asked her to tell him that he has a beautiful soul.  He was telling her the same thing about me at exactly the same moment.  As our guide, Letitia, another amazingly beautiful human being, translated our words to each other, she kept saying how moving and emotional our encounter was.  Meeting Thomas changed my life in an instant.  He gave me back the hope for truly connecting with another human being which I have been losing.  I still feel the love he shared with me in my heart and I know I will carry it with me always.

Thatched Roof © Lynne Buchanan

I have long known that I have a deep connection with indigenous people.  The respect they have for nature, the love they pour into their artistry and even their chores always moves me.  They don't take things for granted as modern man seems to often do and they live from their hearts without the filters we often put in place to distance ourselves from each other.  Each action is meaningful and they live in the present because of their profound connection with nature and the elements.  When I began studying a thatched roof on one of the buildings intently, I was drawn to the beautiful and unique way it was woven, each section exhibiting a different and beautiful pattern.

Rowing on the Toa ©Lynne Buchanan

While the rest of the group enjoyed a pig roast,  I took a boat ride on the Toa to an island on the mouth of the river with a wonderful guide.  Though I don't speak Spanish and he had never been schooled in English, he had acquired the ability to converse–especially about the river–from having taken many visitors there.  The river was a bit muddy, from all the rain they had recently had, but I could tell that it was far cleaner and healthier than our rivers in Florida and he told me there was no pollution and that the estuary had an abundance of shrimp fish, birds, and other creatures.  The Cuban's don't have the money for chemicals, so all of their agriculture is organic.  They also can't afford fertilizers and they don't have an overpopulation problem that requires diverting lots of water and messing up the balance of fresh and salt water.  The biodiversity along the Toa and in Baracoa is amazing and I hope to return their soon to study the rivers and nature there in more depth.

Fishermen's Hut © Lynne Buchanan

There were several huts like these on the island we visited, where the fishermen took refuge from the sun or during adverse weather conditions.  The beach was covered with almonds too and my guide cracked many for me to eat, so I wouldn't go hungry.

Fisherman on the Toa ©Lynne Buchanan

As we were pulling away in the boat, we saw this fisherman appear on the beach.  He was pointing back to where he came from.  And seemed happy to see us.  Then he wandered off along the beach towards another hut and a different area to fish.

I left a piece of my heart with Thomas and along the Toa.  Cuba is at such an important crossroads.  Nature in that country is still thriving.  Every bookstore has books about the pristine environment, solar energy, and the like in the windows.  Yet, when the country opens up, they are in danger of losing biodiversity just as we have done in the Everglades.  This is definitely an incidence where we can learn from each other.  We can see what would exist if we did not pollute our waterways so much, and they can see what will happen if they don't put proper controls in place before the country opens up, which it will have to do if they are going to improve the economic situation.

Apalachicola Bay: The Nursery for the Gulf

Sunrise on Apalachicola Bay ©Lynne Buchanan

Apalachicola Bay is one of Florida's greatest treasures.  Over 90 percent of all creatures in the Gulf of Mexico spend time in this amazing, nutrient laden body of water. If we do not protect it, who knows what the consequences will be for the larger gulf ecosystem and far beyond.  Apalachicola Bay is an estuary, as is the Caloosahatchee where I was today.  All estuaries deserve to be protected.  The special mixture of saline and fresh water is essential for the flourishing of life.  If the balance is unnaturally altered and these bodies of water become either too salty or too inundated with fresh water, then sea grasses, fish, oysters, and other plants and animals die and this affects all life dependent on them including us.  

Illuminated Grasses, Apalachicola Bay ©Lynne Buchanan

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the grasses became illuminated and seemed to magically shimmer as the waters washed in and out of them in gentle waves.  The grasses parted and came together again, almost like they were lungs breathing life into the ecosystem they supported.  Birds began to fly in and out of the grasses, which were as inviting as spun gold.  

Lafayette Park Boardwalk ©Lynne Buchanan

The boardwalk at Lafayette Park is a beautiful place to watch the sunrise and from where the photos above were taken.  Many people get married in the gazebo here.  I understand why.  To unite beside such a glorious vantage point onto teaming life must be auspicious for any future union.  And yet, the famous Apalachicola Oysters are threatened to the point of becoming endangered.  They cannot survive without enough fresh water.

Shrimp Boats in the Evening Light

The shrimp boats run frequently and the industry is still thriving.  Yet the more we pollute our waters and allow our rivers to run dry, the more creatures are harmed and this has a huge economic impact.  People livelihoods depend on shrimping and catching oysters, and when their catches dwindle and even disappear our food source is also diminished.  Water and life can regenerate up to a certain point, but that point can be crossed and then extinction occurs and our rivers die.  

Last Light on the Marina ©Lynne Buchanan

As the last rays of light dipped below the horizon and darkness encroached, I felt as if these boats were singing a swan song.  I hate to think of them not bringing back boatfuls of healthy, delectable seafood.  I don't want to question whether the catch they do bring back is fit to eat.  What happens to our waterways affects us.  We ingest what enters the systems of the sea creatures we eat.    Besides the problem of low water levels, coal ash also makes its way down this river that some claim is the site of the original Garden of Eden.

Please say a prayer for our water, for the Apalachicola and other jewels that are being threatened by what happens upstream, or far away in other parts of the globe brought by water or air currents.  Nothing exists in a vacuum.  Everything is interrelated and it is frankly criminal to say that it doesn't matter what we do because China is creating the biggest environmental problems.  We need to act locally even as we think globally and start by cleaning up and protecting our own backyards, and where better to start than with the biggest nursery for the Gulf of Mexico?  

The Islands of the Forgotten Coast: St. George and St. Joseph's Peninsula

Before Daybreak, Symphony in Mauve ©Lynne Buchanan

Apalachicola is so breathtaking that it will take three blog posts to show just a fraction of the photographs I made.  This image was taken at the end of St. George Island  right before day break.  The sky started turning mauves and corals and I found this little inland lake where the tide had washed up on shore.  The colors of the sky were reflected perfectly and fog was rising off it.  There were even delicate plants growing in the middle.  It was so mysterious and beautiful it took my breath away.  The first images I made were too foggy, but then the lens cleared up and I got so excited.

Sudden Explosion of Color ©Lynne Buchanan

The funny thing was just after the predawn light in the first photo, the sky clouded over and I thought it was going to be a bust.  A bright red ball appeared for a second, but the rest of the sky was rather nondescript so when I looked through the lens it was boring.  I was about to turn around and walk away, but I decided to wait a second and then this happened.  Suddenly all the dark clouds parted and the yellow of the sun peaked through near the horizon to turn the sky peaches and deep reds that were so intense they reflected clear across the water.  I hoped it was a metaphor for my life.  Though often I am very positive, sometimes darkness enters into my world.  Things don't go as planned and I even consider giving up on my path.  Then, at the darkest hour, the light miraculous appears again. 

The vegetation at the end of the island has such interesting textures and colors and it is possible to walk closer to them because they are so close to the shore and not protected like the other areas of the island, though of course I would never tread near any of these beautiful plants.

Dune Vegetation, St. George Island ©Lynne Buchanan

St. George Island Clouds in the Morning Light  ©Lynne Buchanan

When the sun was all the way up, the lake I photographed in the first image reflected the clouds in the sky.  This image was made with a slo mo Singh Ray filter to smooth out the rough water and show the fluid movement of the clouds entering in the scene.

Sea Oats, St. George Island ©Lynne Buchanan

St. George Shoreline with Clouds ©Lynne Buchanan

It was hard to leave this idyllic spot, especially since there are no beaches near Gainesville.  Everywhere I looked, land and sky came together in intriguing compositions and the pristine beauty shone forth.

Pine Forest, St. George Island ©Lynne Buchanan

Pine Foret and Dunes ©St. George Island

Finally, I did manage to tear myself away, but not before stopping at the boardwalk to the pine forest.  The verdancy of these trees is just as impressive as the emerald green waters, and the stands of long leaf pines, home of the red-cockaded woodpecker, look so stately and gracious.  I look forward to spending much more time in this hidden treasure of Florida. Once you have been here, it is impossible to forget the forgotten coast.

Kayakers Coming in From Apalachicola Riverkeeper Annual River Trek

Rounding the Bend for the Final Stretch

Kayakers Completing the 106+ Mile Journey Down the Apalachicola River

The photographs above show the kayakers coming in from their 106+ mile trek down the Apalachicola River as part of an annual Apalachicola Riverkeeper fundraiser.  They made the journey in five days and camped along the river.  Hopefully, I will be joining them next year!  92% of all creatures in the Gulf of Mexico spend time in the Apalachicola Bay.  Keeping this bay healthy and with enough fresh water is critical to our ecosystem.

It is not to late to contribute to the Apalachicola Riverkeeper in honor of their efforts.  Either go to the Apalacicola Riverkeeper Facebook page or click the link below.

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/They-did-it-.html?soid=1103365797625&aid=Od7q4EMbeYw#fblike

Dead Lakes–Pristine and Threatened

Fall Color Dead Lakes, with Osprey Nest ©Lynne Buchanan

I just returned from my first ever trip to Apalachicola, a true paradise in Florida but it needs our help. Dead Lakes is on the Chipola River near its confluence with the Apalachicola and is one of the richest ecosystems in Florida and where Tupelo Honey comes from.  The lake is filled with dead cypress stumps and there are many theories as to how these majestic trees died.  One is that there was a flood and massive influx of salt water, another is that sand bars were created when the current of the Apalachicola River blocked the influx of the Chipola, and a third has to do with the dam 513 that was built nearby but has since been removed due to public demand.  That dam destroyed the riparian landscape and deposited silt and muck on sandbars, which is gradually being cleared away now that partial natural flow has been restored.  The reason I say partial natural flow is that water levels are way down in the Lakes and on the Apalachicola River due to water wars between Florida, Georgia, and Alabama.  In fact, if much more water is diverted the water levels won't even be measurable on the gauge in Dead Lakes.  If the theory that an influx of salt water killed the trees is correct, then that is testament to the dangers of upsetting the balance between salinity and fresh water for ecosystems all along the river and throughout the world.  More will be discussed about this on my upcoming blog about the Apalachicola Bay. 

View from the Dead Lakes Viewing Platform ©Lynne Buchanan

I am pretty sure there was supposed to be water out here.  You can see the water line on the trees and why else would there have been a boardwalk and viewing platform?  Unfortunately, it was bone dry.

Kingfisher Surveying the Scene, Such a Long Way Down to the Water
©Lynne Buchanan

My guide Matthew Goodwin, owner of Off the Map Expeditions, took me out on a pontoon boat and told me that the low water levels are great for photographs, because more of the trees are exposed, but obviously not so good for the ecosystem.  

Corkscrew Stump ©Lynne Buchanan

Sewing Needle Stump ©Lynne Buchanan

The stumps form fascinating shapes and truly are a photographers paradise...

Birds Roosting in the Evening Light
©Lynne Buchanan

If We  Could Only Understand the Woodstork's Message
©Lynne Buchanan

Yet, Dead Lakes is home to a vast ecosystem besides the cypress including tupelo trees and bees, wood storks, ibis, herons, ospreys and other resident and migratory birds, bream, bass, perch, and catfish and many other creatures.  This is true for the entire Apalachicola River system, which needs enough freshwater to stay healthy.  

Stay tuned for more photographs and facts.  Just wanted to share a few images from my first afternoon there.

Thanks to Shannon Lease, Dan Tonsmiere, and the Apalachicola Riverkeepers for guidance and hospitality.  Looking forward to sharing many photographs from my visits to the Apalachicola and other rivers as I work on my upcoming exhibition for the South Florida Museum that is scheduled to open in February 2016.

Gratitude for Tuscawilla Lake

Gratitude for  Tuscawilla Lake ©Lynne Buchanan

This evening on Tuscawilla Lake was so healing for my soul.  I am very involved in writing my book and on a service project for the environment.  Sometimes all the issues I explore seem overwhelming and the situation we face as a culture seems dire.  At such times, the best thing I can do is take my kayak down to the lake and go for a paddle.  The lake near my house is so lovely.  Unlike many other waterways I study, it is in pretty good shape.  The bladderwort in the lake has exploded and bladderwort is a wonderful plant.  It cleans the water and keeps mosquitoes at bay.  I paddled all around the lake, looking at the clouds and lily pads from different angles.  The good part about all the rain we've had is that the lake is very deep now and it is possible to kayak far deeper into it than I ever have.  I am hopeful that this rain is also replenishing the aquifers.  Near the end of my paddle, Source seemed to agree that it was a good evening.  As the sun set it went right behind this little cloud on the horizon and shot up God rays like a fan.  The other clouds and their reflections benefited from this light extravaganza.  Sitting in my kayak, I was so grateful for the show and shouted thank you for the universe.  This is why I am dedicating my life to protecting waterways and the environment.  Not only do I need water to live in a physical sense, it is a spiritual healer as well.

Tuscawilla Clouds and Bladderwort ©Lynne Buchanan

Early in the evening, I watched these clouds dance across the sky as I paddled deeper into the bladderwort and lotus plants.  It felt so wonderful to be alone with the birds enjoying the scenery as it shifted and revealed patterns I never anticipated.  There is no way I can ever photograph with expectations any more.  What happens all depends on what gifts nature cares to give me.  I wait with gratitude and respond from my heart.

Lily Pads and Clouds ©Lynne Buchanan

Yesterday, I came across on article by Jack Turner in The Sun Magazine about how wilderness is an endangered experience and how we can't expect anyone to support conservation if they never go outside and have an immediate, wild experience.   As I paddled around in this lake, where I did not see a single other soul and which I did not even have to drive to from my house, I realized that people don't have to travel great distances to experience wilderness. I am fortunate that I live in such a beautiful place, but there are parks and little bits of nature everywhere.  When you start by appreciating your own backyard, that backyard grows and grows until you care about nature everywhere.

Every direction I turned there were clouds.  Then the sun began to set and beautiful reds mixed with lavenders and pastel hues to create a canvas of color in the sky and in the water.  I could have stayed out there until it was dark, but the vegetation had grown up so much in the launch slip that I knew I would have difficulty getting back in. Though the lake is mostly filled with bladderwort, some of the vegetation near the shoreline may have been invasive from runoff.

Moon, Clouds, and Bladderwort on Tuscawilla Lake 
©Lynne Buchanan

Just before I used my hands to pull the kayak through to the shore, I turned around and saw the full moon over the lake.  I was sad to say goodnight, but I knew next time I look out my window and see clouds and run down to the lake I will be treated with another equally beautiful display, the uniqueness of which will be a mystery until then.  This is why I enjoy paddling so much.  I never know what gifts I will receive, but I am always grateful. 

Saying Goodnight to Tuscawilla Lake ©Lynne Buchanan

No matter what challenges I face every day, I know I can go to sleep knowing there is still so much beauty in this world.  Tomorrow, I will wake up and go back to helping people wake up through my art.  As long as I am in this world and there is beauty like this left to preserve, I will keep celebrating it and doing my best to spread the message that we owe it to our children and ourselves to learn from, connect, and protect the nature around us.

  

Everglades Off Season–A Beautiful Place to Visit

East River Mangroves ©Lynne Buchanan

This morning we kayaked the East River in the Everglades.  'There was soft light before we entered the tunnels and then it became cloudier, making the colors of the tunnels appear spectacular.  It threatened to rain the whole day, and a few drops fell while we were in the tunnels but we were dry under cover.  

Mangrove Tunnel ©Lynne Buchanan

The tunnels were amazing.  The clouds were such a benefit, as the light did not make the images too contrasty.  I was so excited to see all the colors and all the detail in what would typically have been in shadow.

Saw Grass ©Lynne Buchanan

The saw grass was so incredible too.  The softness of the light revealed all the different shades and made the grass appear even softer and whispier.

Funghi ©Lynne Buchanan

In the tunnels on the way back, I saw these fungi on a mangrove root.  It was so dark in the tunnel because of the increased clods that it really made the mushrooms stand out.

Exiting the Tunnel ©Lynne Buchanan

The end of the tunnel opened out on to the verdant green of the mangroves, which were perfectly reflected in the calm water creating a dreaming paradise.

Miniature Mangrove Dancing in the Grass ©Lynne Buchanan

Later, we went to Ten Thousand Islands.  We climbed the observation tower and I saw this sweet little  baby mangrove that looked as if it was dancing in the grass.  The light, which was intermittent, came through and lit up the scene just the right amount without blowing out the water.

Ten Thousand Islands Pastel Sunset ©Lynne Buchanan

Then, on the way back to the car, I looked out from Marsh Trail onto the water and saw these beautiful pastel sunset, which was saved from being too subtle by the dramatic white cloud.  The whites and soft yellows of the white cloud were a perfect compliment to the lavenders in the other clouds, and the reflection of the clouds and the mangroves made the scene complete.