Floridiana Gloriana

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park | Cross Creek

  This is a photograph from a visit to Cross Creek, Florida, the location of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park.

Rawlings, the author of The Yearling and Cross Creek, wrote beautifully about North Florida, her (and now my) "land of enchantment."

I think this photograph gets across a little (though only a little) of the mystique of the place. It shows the area outside the entrance to the house and grounds that belong to the museum. The creek leads out into the lake.

If you're a Floridian, you really should make a visit to the park and the museum. Here is some further information from the state park website, just to encourage you to click on the link:

Toddler with Gulls | Flagler Beach

This is another small detail from a much larger photo. I almost missed it when I was flipping through my old snapshots. There's something Rococo about the massiveness of the pier and the tiny little person---this adorable little boy with short little legs---off to the side among the birds. The original picture is much larger even than this. I think Don must have taken it; it shows the whole length of the pier, similar to some of the photographs I posted earlier.  I think it is probably the pier at Flagler, but it might be Crescent Beach.  We visited them both on the same weekend.

"No Animals Allowed!" | Fort Island Gulf Beach

    This is another view of Fort Island Gulf Beach.  This bird obviously isn't a gull---I don't know what he is---but he obviously hasn't read the sign. He was the only non-gull I saw that day, but doesn't he look very triumphant with that sunbeam shining down on him overhead? Hundreds of gulls were whirling around, snatching french fries from people's hands. He was just standing on this sign flapping his wings and squawking.  It's so easy for me to believe when I look at this photo that birds are descended from the dinosaurs.

Seabirds flying on the St. Johns River | Palatka, Florida

   

Nick took this photograph in December 2005, during his parents' historic visit from England. He wasn't that happy with it. We had stopped in the town of Palatka---a town with a magnificent view of the St. Johns River and a truly beautiful bridge---to take a walk in the Park. Unfortunately, the weather was unseasonably grey and dreary. It did clear up later, just around sunset when we arrived in St. Augustine, but you can see that it was pretty cloudy and misty when he photographed these gulls. There were a lot of them whirling around overhead. These were a pretty small detail in a pretty large photo, so the resolution isn't all I hoped for. Nevertheless, I think it captures very nicely the action of birds in flight.

I realize that gulls are about as popular as pigeons with some people, but I can't help it; I love pigeons and gulls.

There are some beautiful photographs and some interesting information about the St. Johns River here.

Flower Wagon | Melrose

When people picture Florida, they usually don't have the verdant tree-covered lands in the north in mind. This is an excellent example of a typical scene from rural North Florida. Based on my notes, I am pretty sure that the place where this was taken was the tiny exquisite town of Melrose, where we once walked around for hours, taking photographs. That town is surrounded by gorgeous lakes and has many beautiful old houses.

The Gazebo at Lake Lochloosa in the Green Summertime | Lake Lochloosa

This is my final photograph of Lochloosa. It's another green summertime shot. I am pretty sure, after looking back through my files, that this photo wasLochlooseasummer22_3 taken on a third trip. It looks different from the previous shot: the lake is much stiller and the violet cast of the water and the haziness of the treeline in the background make me think that it was later in the summer. Judging by the way the light falls on the trees, it appears to be the same time of day. I'm really not sure. I think we went there three times, but I never dated the photographs except by year. But Don did love photographing this gazebo! I have other photographs of it in my files, but the ones I've posted here are the best. I like the 'dimensional' effect of having the trees in the foreground. The contrast between foreground--middle distance---background gives it a certain depth.

The Lake in the Summertime | Lake Lochloosa

Here's an example of what I mean about the way the world changes not only with the season but with the perception of the viewer: this is Lochloosa in the summertime a year or so later. It's every bit as beautiful, but the delicate silvery look is missing; the colors are stronger and warmer.

I always wanted to recapture the surprise of that first visit; it seemed as if I---or we---had discovered a place that nobody knew about or talked about. It seemed almost sacred.

The second time, it felt familiar. The sense of excitement was missing. I could see that Don felt the same way, and was disappointed. It wasn't that the lake was less beautiful; it was just not the same lake.

The gazebo in Winter | Lake Lochloosa

  This is another photograph taken on the same day a the previous one, or at least I'm pretty sure it was the same day. It's extraordinary how much the look and feel of the two differ. For both of them we were using a not-good/not-terrible camera that really did all of the work and made all the decisions for us.Nevertheless, through serendipity I guess, we did get a few shots that really captured the feel of that afternoon. This is one of Don's that he felt really nailed it. I love it because it has the look and feel of a Japanese print. The gazebo looks very fragile and delicate here, which is certainly not the case in the previous one.Photography has made me aware of how much the world out there changes from day to day and moment to moment. Heraclitus was right: You can never step into the same stream twice. Regardless of how much you might try to recapture an experience, it's never going to be the same again.

The gazebo| Lake Lochloosa

This is a pretty place to sit and read, but I couldn't seem to sit still that day. It was a perfect, warm February day. We didn't even need jackets. I just wandered up and down the lake's edge, taking photographs. I couldn't believe how radiant, how lucid it all was. It was like a religious experience. Perhaps it was a religious experience. I felt really a part of things. I also felt that by taking pictures, I was preserving them in some way.You can see yourself what I saw. Maybe I'll go back there someday.

Shooting Straight Into the Sun | Lake Lochloosa

   I've always been fascinated by the way light changes the appearance of things. I know you're not supposed to shoot toward the sun when you're photographing outdoors, but something about the look of the sun coming through these branches (with the banners of Spanish moss) made me want to preserve the image. I love the look of the light on the water. Far across the lake, you can see the treeline on the other side. That day was the first day I really began to notice how a photograph can save memories not just of events (this day was uneventful) but of passing perceptions and feelings. I'm so glad I saved some of what I saw. I've only been back one time since and of course it wasn't the same; it was summer and the trees were covered with leaves. It was still beautiful, but the light and feel were completely different. It had more of the Deep South ambiance than the weird mystical radiance of that February afternoon.