Journal 2.0

We checked out a new park today, Edward Medard Park, not 15 minutes from our house. The sun shone gloriously over the expanse of still water. A hawk circling overhead greeted us, and all kinds of herons, a sandhill crane, grackles, a jurassic pelican, and a few anhingas roosted in a large thatch alongside the bridge across the waterway. A breeze rippled the water and made the heat of midday pleasant. We found an “observation” tower at the end of the bridge, but the trees had grown up so tall around it that there wasn’t much of a view. So we explored.

It was quiet. Naturally quiet. This quiet has been hard to find in the state, county and federal parks we’ve visited here in Florida. Usually a background roar of car and/or airboat engines distract from the peace one is supposed to encounter in nature. Today, I could hear cars, but they were far enough away that I was able to tune them out.

We walked into the woods, Corey taking the lead, of course, Marley in the middle, and Old Mom (me) bringing up the rear. We walked along unofficial trails carved out by small groups of visitors who’d come before us to smoke a joint, have a beer, harass alligators. Their presence was obvious by the occasional red plastic cups and cigarette butts they left behind.

The trail snaked around the high banks on the water’s edge. Marley maneuvered through the vines, brush and tree roots like an old pro. Every so often, we’d encounter an open descent toward the water. Corey would tell us to stay put while he slunk down to check for alligators. It was clear we were not alone.

Swooshsplash! I turned my head just in time to see a four- or five-foot gator crash ungracefully into the shimmering water. “Gator! Gator!” I yelled to Marley and Corey. It was the closest we’d been to a wild gator since moving to Florida, so our hearts beat with excitement.

On our way down the next bank, we heard another splash and caught sight of a second gator, about 8 feet long, with a head bigger than all of Marley. We were on top looking down on his glistening bumpy hide as he swam away.

We moved on along the rugged path to the next opening. Corey skulked down one opening, while Marley and I checked out another very close by. I was holding Marley’s hand when I came around a slight bend just in time to hear an enormous SPLASHHH! and see a huge 10 foot gator writhe and bend as he splashed into the water below.

It frightened all of us. Corey was closer to him than we were, but his view was partially blocked by trees, so he didn’t see the gator until he splashed into the water. Marley “cried two little tears” she said later, and moaned, “I’m afraaaaaid.” I picked her up onto my hip like the toddler that she was not so long ago and told her it was okay. We were safe.

Corey rushed back to our side of the bank and we all stood there, hearts pounding, eyes wide. Frightened but exhilarated.

We continued on this path, but I had become nervous. Corey went to check out another opening in the path. However, Marley and I were too close to the water for my comfort, too low. I know alligators cannot climb steep banks, so I felt relatively safe up there. Down here, I felt like, well, a sitting duck. I continued to hold Marley like a baby and I noticed she didn’t squirm to get down. The size of the last two gators reminded me that they could break her in one hearty chomp.

I encouraged Corey to stop exploring now and start heading back. He took one more excursion toward the water and when I asked him to come back, Marley patted my hand and in a peaceful little voice said, “Stay calm, Mama. Stay calm.” She was patting my hand like a little old lady! She’s such a trip.

Definitely a nature walk to remember.

I just found this poem by the current Poet Laureate on the Library of Congress’ Poetry Website

Turtle
Kay Ryan

Who would be a turtle who could help it?
A barely mobile hard roll, a four-oared helmet,
She can ill afford the chances she must take
In rowing toward the grasses that she eats.
Her track is graceless, like dragging
A packing-case places, and almost any slope
Defeats her modest hopes. Even being practical,
She’s often stuck up to the axle on her way
To something edible. With everything optimal,
She skirts the ditch which would convert
Her shell into a serving dish. She lives
Below luck-level, never imagining some lottery
Will change her load of pottery to wings.
Her only levity is patience,
The sport of truly chastened things.

This poem made me smile. Alot.

The other night I had a dream that Corey and I were on the steep, snowy bank of a wide, muddy river. At some point I figured out that I didn’t have to sink into the snow and get stuck. Instead, I could just glide across it, kind of Spiderman style. It was a good moment, when I realized that I didn’t have to be stuck, or buried, but could literally rise above what I thought was holding me down.

A little later in the same dream, we had to cross the river. Corey showed me what he’d learned about walking above the water, instead of getting wet, dirty, and risking being pulled away or under. We held hands and glided over the water together. We were both smiling, relieved, and happy about the techniques we’d learned to make our situation easier.

Last night or this morning, I was dreaming about penguins. I don’t remember what about them, just that there were penguins in my dream. They keep coming up. Penguins. I just looked them up in my AnimalSpeak book and he says they are a totem of lucid dreaming. What I see is more water. Gliding through the water with ease. He also says they can jump five to six feet straight out of the water and land on their feet. This reminds me of the previous dream–not getting stuck, but jumping out of emotions, or difficulties and landing right on our feet ready to go.

Grasshoppers have been a huge totem lately, literally, huge grasshoppers have been showing themselves to Corey and me. Yesterday one jumped and flew right in front of me and landed on the vine out in front of the house so that I could admire him. Every time grasshoppers show up for us, it heralds a time of making GIANT leaps forward. And these are the BIGGEST grasshoppers we have ever seen.

Good times, good times. Thank you.