Thanksgiving Eve

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, Fran and I finally found some time which included fishing.  One of my nice customers was in the gallery checking out the commission Koi painting before it left for its new home.  I was commenting that I was definitely going fishing as a reward to myself for finishing the painting after working 12 straight days on it without a full day off.

She very generously offered us access to her dock to fish and some advice on when the best fishing time was.  We showed up bright and early to catch the low tide and the best estimated fishing time.  As in love, gambling and fishing, we caught some and lost some, but in the end we wound up with our limit of two, with Fran catching the prize.  It was a beautiful day, warm, sunny, and a bit buggy but still that is part of fishing in the marsh when the weather is warm.

There are lots of restrictions on the catching Red Fish, such as this one, as to size limitations, both how small and how big.  We caught our limit of two and one just reached minimum and second one was solidly in middle ground at 23-25" I can't remember which.  We felt like we had a good day and promptly went home cleaned them, fried them up with hushpuppies, and enjoyed a great pre-Thanksgiving feast together.

Looks like I am back into the Caterpillar/Butterfly business.  I found this fellow out in my flower garden.  For its safety I brought it inside.  It quickly grew and I was kept busy supplying him with more leaves.  However, the one quickly became 3 as I found others munching away on the Butterfly Weed left over from last years bout of raising 10 Monarchs.

Since I was finding Caterpillars in my small garden I decided to stop in and check on the Butterfly garden at the History Museum just down the street from the gallery.  A beautiful Passion Flower was one of the plants which had been planted and it was doing exceptionally well, except that the Fritillaries like the "Blue" Passion Flower instead of the "Red".  The blooms were very beautiful anyway.  This is a mistake often made by people who read that Fritillaries like Passion Flowers, but they are a bit more specific than that.

During the day of Thanksgiving Eve, as I was sitting in my gallery with not a soul in town coming to see me, a good friend and fellow artist, Sandra Hunter, one of my jewelry designers, called to see if I wanted to join her on the River Cruise. With 30 minutes to departure time I told her I had to work.  After a few minutes of pondering the situation I reconsidered.  I had made one little sale all day, and doubted that there would be any more folks passing my threshold.  I say, "What the heck", called back and said, "Hold the boat, I'm on my way!!!"  Bruce happened to be close by, and was also able to sit the gallery.  I have always taken the Amelia River Cruise's Sunset cruise so this mid afternoon one would be a new experience.

I noticed that we had some new Shrimpboats in town.  I asked about them and was told that they were from Georgia.  I am not sure what shrimping season is exactly, and how it differs from Georgia, but I do know that after reading "Last Light Over Carolina" that shrimpers from Georgia often come South in winter to try to get a longer season in to help the bottom line.  It is hard though because of the fuel and travel expenses for the whole crew and the toll it takes on family relationships the long separations causes.  A big ship was also in port waiting to be loaded.  It is taking steel to the Panama Canal for work that is being done there to expand the size of the canal.

It was not a good time of day for shooting reflections in the water but I thought the ships anchor was a nice composition in itself with the telltale signs of the many trips the anchor has made, left recorded on the side of the ship.

The railroad cars lined up at the Paper mill and Port area are a roving art gallery in themselves.  I just wonder about the artists who create them; who they are and what kind of lives they lead.

Something I had not noticed before was pointed out by Kevin (yes, we were fortunate to have the Grand Poobah himself as our captain that day, Kevin McCarthy, owner of the boat), -the device for lifting up the big eighteen wheelers to shake every last chip out of the trucks so that nothing is lost.

The Double Crested Cormorants were just taking it all in as they also enjoyed the warm Florida sunshine.  I see a nice painting composition here.  Look at the warm greens in the pilings, the coloring in the heads of the birds, yes, it could be very nice...

Kevin pushed the speed of the boat to get us on out as far as we were permitted to enter and watch this "small" Submarine head out.  He thought it was a British Sub.  Another first for me, and as Kevin, who knows all, told us what was about to happen.  The tug which had been coming toward the sub, turned so that it was now moving parallel to the submarine.

A ship, or in this case a Sub, leaving or entering our port must have a local pilot, the Harbor Pilot, on board who knows the channel to guide the vessel.  In this case the Tug has a boardwalk mounted on its side which is lowered at just the right moment to allow the Harbor Pilot to exit the Sub onto the Tug so that he can return to his home port.

It only takes a few seconds for this to happen so I barely and not very clearly recorded the Harbor Pilot's quick dash across the boardwalk to the tug, his job finished.  Submarines like our big Nuclear subs cannot submerge until about 60 miles off shore and the continental shelf drops off to allow them proper clearance.

Kevin says I bring him good luck because we always see interesting things when I am on board.  I think he exaggerates because I think there are always interesting things to be seen.  I do know that we saw at least 3 bands of horses that day, more than I have ever seen on the evening cruises.  Lots of oyster beds were above the surface with the low tide.

The horses live in bands with one stallion and his harem and all the kids, at least until the young males get to be about 3 years old, then they have to go out and find their own girls and start their own band.  A male will eventually get too old to keep defend his position and keep his band together and will be challenged by a younger male.  Once he is beaten he goes away to live a solitary life until he finally dies of loneliness.

They all seem to be peacefully enjoying this beautiful Thanksgiving Eve munching on the tender young marsh grasses.

Sandy and her family were enjoying the day as they prepared to spend a family holiday together.  If you have not met Sandy Hunter, and are wearing some of her beautiful jewelry, here she is for you to put a face to the creator of your treasure.

As you scan your eyes over the patterns of the Palmettos, even in a photograph, it almost makes your eyes feel like one of those optical illusions of dizzying motion.

We were also blessed with a pod of Bottle Nosed Dolphins as we headed up Beach Creek at the bottom of Cumberland Island.  They had been up in the creek fishing.  A trick they have is that they work in a group and corral the fish, herding them toward the bank, literally chasing them out of the water.  They then slide up on the bank and grab the fish.

Getting ready to enjoy the rewards of the Dolphin's leavings is Henry the Heron here as he patiently watches and waits for some of the fish to be left on the beach by the Dolphins for his enjoyment and an easy lunch.

We were able to get close enough to see the ruins of the old Dungeness mansion.  The illusion of the flat ground does not do justice to the actual perspective of the spacious lawns stretched between us and the mansion.  It looks as if the house is sitting on the edge of the marsh when in reality there is a low retaining wall which separated what was, once up on a time, the lower vegetable gardens from the wide expanse of lawn, and then the walls of the lower structure of the house rise beyond that.

The Dolphins worked their way around the boat and now led the way out of the creek.  A Cormorant which was also fishing in the creek when we entered it is still holding his low spot in the water in the distance.  Another band of horses were on the bank nearby so it was difficult to decide where to focus the camera, on the horses or try for the illusive Dolphin shot.  The horses lifted their heads from their almost constant position of heads down eating to give me a chance to get a picture of them just walking away in a group.  I guess our presence caused them to want to move further away.

The Dolphins lift their eyes above water to keep watch on us.  Once they got us out in the channel they watched until we were for sure headed away then went back toward the creek for more fishing.

A perfect day.  Before the Thanksgiving pre-cooking began, I closed down the gallery and headed to the Ritz for the Annual Tree Lighting Ceremony.  There was a huge crowd of people already there, and if I write about it maybe next year I will remember NOT to go to this side of the viewing area.  I was thinking Santa was entering from this side and I could get a good shot of him.  However, there was a huge, tightly packed crowd and the Ritz had more of "their people" than usual making sure you did not get outside the ropes they had erected to protect us from the stampeding hoofs of Santa's reindeer, actually a one horse drawn carriage.  But anyway, the grounds guards would not let me cross the lawn behind the tree, and it was impossible and too late to retrace my path to the other side.

Here is your shot of Santa as in a blur the carriage passed me by, too close and too fast to focus on anything.

You can vaguely see Mr. and Mrs. Claus from their hindsides and to create the right atmosphere for making a big splash with the tree lights it was a bit too dark to see the performers or Santa.

But then Santa led the countdown and we finally had some light as the beautiful tree shined with its thousands of multicolored lights and then the fireworks started.  Oh, and did you ever wonder what sometimes happens, re: hungry/thirsty insects, on a calm warm night at the beach?  Well, when the wind abates, the bugs can be vicious, and this was just such a night.  I wore a jacket because I thought it might be cool.  I told friends I ran into in the beginning, that I needed to take my jacket off because it was too hot, and they said don't do it, you'll need it for bug protection.  Since it had been a balmy day I still had on my Capri's which left about 15 inches or more of bare skin.  I, at this point, could have cared less about the lights as my legs were being torn to shreds by the thousands of insects having a great Thanksgiving pre-meal out of me.

Even though Santa had cleared the area, the yard police would still not allow me to cross the lawn, so the choice to shoot the fireworks was through the palm fronds, which nicely blocked my view, or the street light buzzing with a cloud of mosquitoes.  I was very happy to return to the sanctuary of my house shortly afterward, free of bugs and crowds, with just the quiet of the evening and the cooking smells that were starting to tell me that tomorrow was going to be a good day.

I awoke Thanksgiving morning to see that the caterpillars had already been feasting all night long.  Since my one had now become three ravenous yellow, white and black Monarch Caterpillars, I could barely keep enough food supplied to last them through the night.  If you look at them closely, you will notice that each is slightly different with the various striped patterns varying with each cat, just like your fingerprints vary from one another.  The youngest one was noticeably darker than the other two.

I stopped by once again to check out the History Museum's Butterfly garden to see if there were Caterpillars on their plants too.  Yes, they also had several about the size of mine and more Monarchs fluttering in and around the plants so it looks like we will be having some more butterflies about the time it starts to turn cold.  I'm not sure how cold tolerant they are.  Does anyone know?  I don't plan on taking another trip to the Magic Kingdom this year to release butterflies in warmer weather.

I was able to briefly catch one as she was sipping nectar and possibly depositing more eggs.

This is the beginning of a painting which will, like the butterfly caterpillars, metamorphize into something beautiful when it is finished; but for now it is in its very early not so beautiful, rough stage.

Our three fellows are about a day apart with one already turned into the Chrysalis, the second in its "J" position a day away from the Chrysalis and the other one, the dark one, on the prowl trying to find the perfect spot to suspend himself.  "Blacky" actually had a bit of a misadventure before he started his changing lifestyle.  I left the lid slightly cracked because he had his feet along the edge, as you can see, and I didn't want to pinch his little toes.  Next morning he had disappeared, escaping through the small crack I left.  Finding a wandering caterpillar in my office, well, finding anything there is a challenge, but finding a caterpillar who may have already attached himself to the underside of something was a bit daunting.  I was afraid he might be where the computer keyboard drawer would squish him or heaven forbid inside the printer, that could be fatally messy.  Miraculously I finally located him, not yet attached, inside an open box, underneath its topside, and the box inside the bottom shelf of the bookcase on which the terrarium sits.  Thank goodness!!!    Now, all three are happily sitting inside their lime green Chrysalises doing whatever developing butterflies do.  However, the stems of Butterfly Weed which I brought in to feed the others had no less than 5 teeny, tiny little caterpillars on them so we now have two more age groups of caterpillars coming on after these guys.

Getting Into the Way Back Machine

In a distant past, (about a month ago), that seems like only yesterday, I got the opportunity to take a special voyage to a place I hold most dear to my heart.  My finding Cumberland Island and the natural wonders which existed there, led to my discovery of Amelia Island just next door, resulting in a truly life changing event for us.   One of my friends, Lynne, called me one busy afternoon at the gallery and said "I have a ticket to Cumberland Island tomorrow but I can't use it.  Would you like to take it?"  Thinking that it was one of the day trips from St. Mary's on the Park Service Ferry, I politely declined because my knee would not hold up to the amount of walking that trip would require.  Later that evening I got a note from Dickie Anderson who does the "High Tide Women's Weekends", saying how nice it was that Lynne thought of me first to take her place.  The "light bulb" finally lit up in my brain and I realized that this year Dickie was highlighting the National Parks in the area and this was no ordinary trip to Cumberland Island.  With shaking hands I grabbed the phone, praying I was not too late, and called Lynne, apologizing if I had awakened her, and asked if the trip was still available.  YES, YES, I WANT TO GO!!!

Lynne had feared rain and the heat since she is still recouping from a recent bout with some health issues.  The morning started out to be beautiful as I showed up early, not wanting to miss the boat, with my pack, my new orthopedic inserts in my walking shoes, and raring to go.  The recent rains had mushrooms growing galore all over the island and these were the first thing I saw as I walked toward the docks.  In the early morning light I could not pass them up without a few shots to start off the day.  It was a 70's flashback when mushrooms were a big subject for me to paint.  I'm sure there are still many of  my mushroom paintings hanging on walls in the Chattanooga area.  That was the time when framing in barn wood, reading Foxfire, and Adele Davis's dietary books (who lost favor when she died of cancer) which all told us how to live simply, eat healthy, and be environmentally friendly, the new hot ticket in living.  The dawning of the Green age; and you thought Al Gore invented it...

A perfect morning to climb aboard a boat and go on a very excellent adventure.  It was so calm it was almost as if I wasn't sure which was the upside of the photograph as I looked back toward the street on which my gallery sits and thought how great to just walk away for a day.  [Thank you to Lynne and to Bruce for making it possible.]  I whiled away the time waiting for the official Cumberland Island Park Service Ferry to show up at OUR dock,  enjoying the reflections through the camera's lens.

It was indeed a perfect morning for a cruise.  I suppose Gilligan thought the same thing when he set sail for that short cruise that ran through many seasons.  Although Cumberland Island is just a short distance as the boat sails and the crow flies it usually seems much further away since actual landing on the island means a trip to St. Marys and making reservations on the Park Service Ferry or spending the big bucks to go with Greyfield Inn which leaves from our island.

It was almost too calm as the water became a perfect mirror and I like the abstract in the water not realism.  Come on now, give me a wave or two.

Finally a boat came by and gave me some interesting images to capture.  Some day I will have an exhibit of all the wonderful things I see in the water.

With lots of bigwigs from Washington with Park Service affiliations on board and with women who had come from near and far for this trip, most were eager for a top side view as we left the harbor.  Dickie had outdone herself in arranging this great one of a kind event.  So thankful was I, to be able to be on board.  My yellow pack and camera bag sit in the foreground.  I should not have bothered.  Every thing was provided from water to a pack in which to carry our "stuff".

At that time of the morning there were many of the wild horses of Cumberland Island out along the grassy beach areas, as we paralleled the shoreline.

Our first stop was Dungeness, the home of Lucy Carnegie and her family, previously owned by and the home of the Phineas Greene's.  We strolled with the very informative Park Ranger down Coleman Avenue as we listened to the stories of the people who had lived here from the knowledgeable park ranger.  The canopy of Live Oak Trees and Spanish Moss fills you with expectations of what might have awaited you beyond the turn in the road as you traveled once upon a time in Miss Lucy's carriage as her guest.

Lots of wild turkeys were scattering as we interrupted their quiet morning of dining on the lawn bugs.

I had forgotten where this wonderful old fountain was, while on a previous trip and was determined to not miss it this time.  It was located on the backside of the oldest remaining building on the island, a nice tabby built by the Greene's who had built the first Dungeness.  This building had housed the tutors for the children who lived at Dungeness.  It had also served as an office for the tutor who stayed on to be Miss Lucy's right hand man after her husband died fairly early in life.

In the museum at the dock, which is actually the old Ice House for the estate, you can see the pictures of the mansion when it was a real live home.  It is impressive now but must have been a true wonder for its time.  The Carnegies had the latest in technology, and when only 7% of the country had electricity, they were generating their own here in their private island paradise.

Since there was so much to do it was time to re-board the boat much too soon, but we had a lunch date with the folks at Greyfield Inn.  It was not something anyone wanted to miss, either, as walking around the ruins, we had worked up an appetite.  This horse was enjoying a morning brunch of Spanish Moss, which it was harvesting off a downed tree.  A glimpse into part of their diet on the island.

These two were grazing on the sparse grass found growing on the sand flat.  I loved the twisty gnarly branch forms from the trees which have been uprooted by the eroding shoreline.

This was my favorite of the horses I saw.  Such a pretty pattern.  The horses through the years have mixed with those from the all the families who lived there.  My friend Cindy who lived here, and whose grandmother was Lucy Carnegie, can tell you whose horses influenced some of the colors especially the ones with the white blazes on their faces.  Sometimes a horse just gets through the fence and spreads his charms around the whole island.

A tour of the main floor of the house, now Greyfield Inn, which was given to the daughter, Lucy, as a gift.  The library here is filled with rare first edition books, some signed, which you are free as a guest to browse through.  The lunch was substantial and pleasant as the whole group assembled to chat, get acquainted, and pose for a group photo.  That's me with the red shirt, hat and water bottle in her hand sitting on the first step underneath the rather large flower pot on the right.

We had 20 minutes to go until the boat would leave us but I just had to walk with a few hardier souls to get a glimpse of the beach I had for so long loved.  This is the Main Road, which goes from end to end on the island and which I have hiked many times with my backpack loaded with a weeks worth of food on my back, and then later on my old three wheeler with Bruce once we found a cottage we could rent.  I stood remembering that first walk on my very first trip as four of us, 3 women friends and one male, when the sounds of the Armadillos would startle us as they rattled the stiff Palmetto fronds scurrying away when we passed by.  We couldn't see them and was not sure what was making the noise.

My knee was reminding me that I still had to walk back, and it was quickly nearing departure time.  Thankfully a fellow came along in one of the golf cart vehicles from Greyfield and I was relieved and thankful to accept a ride on his chariot right to the dock.  Yea, saved the knee for another time.

The next stop on the tour was Plum Orchard behind which we had found our little Pink Cottage retreat and left the tent camping behind.  Since it is about 7 miles up the island I don't often get the chance to revisit.  On the way we had to retrace our path a good bit to be able to access the river channel, with the large ferry   The channel took us very close to the Kings Bay Nuclear Submarine base.  The large tall structure on the top left photo is a gizmo (very technical words so don't get overwhelmed) through which the subs pass through on their return to discharge the static electricity that has built up on the outside of the vessel due to the friction of the high speed with which they travel through the water.  They have to do this so they don't create a spark when they refuel.  As luck would have it on such a perfect day a sub was in port.  Of course we also were being evaluated, but  as a result, able to get up close and personal with the gun boat which was guarding the base.

Plum Orchard was the largest of the homes Lucy built for her children.  They were all given the choice of a house or cash, with most of the girls opting to take the money and run.  This is one of the most beautiful, which the daughter-in-law added another wing onto, after it was built, needing more space, -for just the two of them and staff of course.  It has over 100 rooms although I was not sure what was considered a room.  I think the count had to have included closets and hallways as rooms, because it doesn't seem that big to me.  Of course it has an attic with living quarters for some of the staff which we were not able to see.  That means 4 floors of rooms including the large and cavernous basement which we were also privileged to explore.  There was an area the size of a room just to accommodate the motors for the refrigerator which was in the adjoining area.  Things were not so compact in the early days of electrical technology.

Because they could afford to do so it was tastefully furnished with fine furnishings and elegant touches like Tiffany Lamps and hand painted/stenciled wallpapers everywhere.  To me the warmest part of the house was this cozy fireplace which you stepped down into, located in the foyer area,  It would have been very warm and cozy with a roaring fire on those cool damp winter days.  Great touches like wood paneling in the Gun Room to give it a very masculine touch with billiard tables, a baby grand, and built in gun cabinets along with the tortoise shell Tiffany lamps in the picture above.  A great place to hang out at the end of a hard day hunting and prowling the beaches.  Even an elevator with hydraulic lift which later came in handy as the Carnegie son developed a muscle condition which left him in a wheelchair.  What had been a luxury became a necessity for navigating to the upstairs bedroom area.

The only time I have seen a horse in this condition on the island.  The Park Service lets the horses remain on the island on the condition that they do not have to do anything to keep them going.  This means if they get sick they do not help.  Sometimes a stallion will loose his place as head of the herd and is exiled.  He will then soon die of loneliness and this could be the case here.

There is a fresh water pond just behind the house, which I had remembered always had lots of birds.  That was back when I didn't know the names of our birds.  The tree was filled with lots of very skittish Great Whites, White Ibis (young ones still brown). a Green Heron, some baby Alligators, and mosquitoes the size of birds and ticks to boot which took their toll on me and I did not stay long.  It was pretty grown up and one of the longest snakes I have ever seen in the wild had run into this pond on an earlier trip back in the old days.  I like snakes but I didn't want to prowl around in their house uninvited.  Water snakes are noted to not be real friendly to such intrusions.

It came time for us to turn homeward.  I usually do not feel our paper mills pollute the air but from this distance I am rethinking my stand on this.  True we do not get the smells on the island associated with papermills of earlier times, but when I saw the clear pristine skies from this distance and the plume of low lying yellowish haze spreading to the Southwest from Rayonier and gray smoke coming directly on the North end from the Rock Tenn plant I was very disheartened.  I don't think they were both just having a bad day.  Now come on folks, even if your pollution doesn't stay on our island, it's still going out there.  Let's clean up our act!!!  Even on cloudy days...

The Marshes were at their prettiest green and the horses were enjoying it as if they had been turned out into a new pasture.

Only a few of us still headed for the upper deck on the journey back home.  There was wine and treats inside the cabin underneath and some very tired ladies to enjoy it.  The trip was exhausting but wonderful at the same time.  None of the buildings we toured had the new fangled air conditioning so perspiration had taken its toll zapping our energy.  As we rehydrated only a few rain drops added to the mix from the gray clouds overhead.  All around were the perfectly beautiful billowing clouds I love.  I took many photographs of them that day.  The next day one of my other friends from Jacksonville who had gone on the trip came to say she was disappointed that I had not made it to the mixer and fashion show later that night.  I said, "are you kidding?  I was sound asleep by 8 o'clock."  Am I getting old?