“CONFLUENCE” – Poem on Rivers, (for once, not the Delaware)

 

Written some years ago, this poem resurrects a winter trip to Pere Marquette State Park with my sister, Marilyn, to southern Illinois.  We stayed in Pere Marquette Lodge, which echoes Yellowstone’s and Yosemite’s.  It is sited at the point where three rivers (Illinois, Missouri, Mississippi) course as one, –keeping the waters open, blessing the birds    The rangers at Pere Marquette State Park told us at our dawn confluence (of naturalists), “Every black dot is an eagle.”

 

CONFLUENCE

 

this wild connection

proves turbulent as two rivers

 

–Illinois, Missouri –

coursing, writhing

between blonde flanks

of tower-rocks

that funneled Pere Marquette

in his frail bark

smack into the Mississippi

 

here eagles cry and joust

for winter fish

–all smaller tributaries

marble-hard

releasing no nourishment

 

two tumultuous rivers

crest, fling spray

scour their own depths

 

til scale-silvered life

meets fate

in gilded beaks and talons

 

–two voluminous rivers roiling

until fish take wing

 

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

 

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DECEMBER BEACHCOMBING, NEW JERSEY STYLE

Who needs summer crowds, or even summer?  The original Intrepids (Bill Rawlyk, Jeanette Hooban, and I) literally basked along both bayside and oceanside of Island Beach last Sunday.

Silence.  Limitlessness.  Sea-borne treasures.  Elegant fishermen.  Ravenous seagull. Artemesia in winter.  Sundown like peach mousse upon a slate-blue plate.  Paradise enow…

Stroll with us.   We nearly took our shoes off!

 

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“Mermaid’s Purse” (skate egg case) and Fox Tracks like Roses Pressed into Sand

 

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December’s New Green Growth, Oceanside, Island Beach

 

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“Dusty Miller / Artemesia” — first seeds came ashore in wreckage from clipper ships! Now major dune stabilizers.

 

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Post-Sandy Boardwalk to the Sea

Can’t you just hear the cold jingle of these shells, as waves sip in and out?

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December Still-Life, Oceanside

 

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Alluring, Oceanside

 

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Seaside Success!

 

Remember that this pristine perfection exists because courageous and generous people knew to preserve it.  Do whatEVER it takes, and be generous with whatever land trusts speak to you, to extend preservation of open land, sand and water in our time.

 

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Gull’s Lunch – Probably Bunker

 

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Perfect Balance — December’s Oceanside Flycaster

 

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GAnnet-and-Long-Tailed-Duck Territory, Island Beach, December Waters

 

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Autumn Meets Winter, December Froth and Seaweed

 

 

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Crucial New Signs, Island Beach

Never forget — We ARE our fellow-creatures’ keepers.

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Our Land’s End — Below This is Barnegat Inlet, with ‘Old Barney’ Lighthouse on the Other Side

KAYAKING AUTUMN’S FINALE

October now.

latest ever kayaked November 23 — Will we get out on the water in the month about to be born?

Meanwhile, for NJWILDBEAUTY readers, here are sketch notes of Saturday’s kayaking, thanks to splendid Steve of Princeton Canoe and Kayak at Alexander Road.

Ilene Dube, who launched me as a blogger with NJWILD at the Packet, had suggested we try for it, weather permitting.  It did and we did.

Kayaking – Autumn Finale

Muted tones

Superb fellowship

Magnificent contrast of dark and light, gliding under the towpath and out into canal.

towpath ‘tunnel’ accentuated almost blinding effect of thousands of gold maple leaves, crisped and curled, newly afloat on bruise-dark water.  In all those perfectly designed points of all those leaves, bubbles of water seemed captured, set like jewels.  Crisp, gold, points     Soft round bubbles   Each bubble held its own rainbow     all accentuated under Alexander Road Bridge

Canal water serene, yet almost scowlingly dark

Brooding sky

1 fishermen, no fish    “What did you catch?”  “Nothing today.”

Not one turtle

Not a fish ring nor leap

No flowers anywhere

The frail mauve of sedum everywhere last time has been diluted by time and the season — somewhere between lavender fields past their prime and ashes of old fire on New England hearth

Bittersweet’s red/gold ornaments dangle from canalside trees, so that we can kayak through their tendrils

Tiny wind-driven wavelets hither and yon, what New Englanders call “williwaws”

Suddenly, the ‘bright-eyed’ Ilene spots a deer, lying down, peacefully, in canalside grasses, big dark eyes like chestnuts for the roasting.  It makes a strange sound as she paddles nearer.  “Do deer sneeze?”

Odd ominous taxicab-yellow curved pipes on either side of the deer, right alongside the canal — on their sides are letters spelling PETROLEUM

GOOD silent (!) canoeists glide by, skilled as Indians

so many people out on towpath, on foot, on bikes    many wave and smile with such connection as we paddle by

pure silence

peace

occluded sky paints surface of the slate-colored water

now well south of Alexander — nothing human but our craft and paddles

so beautiful out here, my companion murmurs, I just want to stay forever, curl up, sleep on the water, wake to this

my kayak bumps over something hard and soft at once     I laugh and say, “I’m glad we don’t have alligators here…”    (which were everywhere during my Savannah year, and everyone warned me, “Don’t go near the water!”

maple leaves look cut by very sharp scissors from very substantial gold foils

beside my prow, a rosary of bubbles — fish?  turtle?

no birds

Ilene, former Princeton Packet Editor, is a specialist in art in her current writing.  This entire afternoon, we’ve been gliding through Impressionism

hope not final kayak of 2014…