Visited the Miccosukee Canopy Road Greenway here in Tallahassee this afternoon. I wanted to film a “Minute Wild” video, but cars hissing by on the busy road about two hundred yards away ruined that plan. An unseasonably gentle storm had just passed through, too, so it was miserably humid. Most living things–excluding all of us insufferably industrious humans, of course, who were out jogging or taking photos–were in deep hiding, waiting for the temperature to drop as the evening settled in. I thought the languid tones of this pasture captured the atmosphere perfectly, however, so I was at least able to salvage something from the trip. Here’s to better luck tomorrow.
Tag: Nature
Camera Roll: Bald Point
Minute Wild: Lake Jackson
Here’s a new little project I’m working on: short, unedited videos for the nature-deprived. I’m calling these videos “Minute Wild” and have a few ready to go. Here’s the first one, recorded at Lake Jackson here in Tallahassee.
Not much happens here, and that’s kind of the point. “Nature” is hardly ever as exciting as it appears in documentaries. In reality, the natural world simply exists. We project onto nature our own ideas about ourselves. These little unedited shorts are the most sincere way I could think of to explore that idea.
If anyone wants to make anything out of these as I go along, let me know and I’ll be glad to share the files if you credit me.
Light Painting on the St. Johns River
Wonderland/Wasteland
It was over 100 degrees when I took this yesterday. The railings on the boardwalk overlooking the marshy fringe of Lake Jackson burned my arms as I leaned to capture this photo of dead trees and scorched grass lining the shimmering lake. This lake disappears every twenty years or so, leaving a scarred grassland in its place on the north side of Tallahassee, but Florida’s most powerful Mississippian chiefdom was based on its shores 500 years ago and this rich ecosystem continues to shape the region. Florida’s prosaic landscapes, far away from its charismatic beaches and springs, have both delighted and baffled humans for thousands of years. It’s difficult to know what to make of scenes like this, but for me they are just home.
A Gift
I live for moments like this. The ‘secret pond’ I like to visit every few weeks was aflutter with chattering songbirds when I stopped by a few days ago. I walked slowly around the edge of the pond, trying desperately to capture a good shot of the Jays, Wrens, Warblers, or Mockingbirds hidden in the leafy branches hanging over the water, to no avail. I had given up for the day and started heading back toward the car when this little bird stopped to have a look at me. Moments like this are a gift.
Camera Roll: Geese at the Secret Pond
Stopped by the usual spot this afternoon for a quick look around. Found some old friends hanging out.
Field Notes: Morning Walk with Old Mr. Green
Interstate 10 runs right by my office window, back behind the trees, as it winds a course to Jacksonville one way and Long Beach in the other. I am of a disposition to amplify the effects of humans, so on my walk this morning my first impulse was to fixate on the interstate and the constant din of trucks, cars, motorcycles, choppers, jake brakes, ambulances, and so on that roar by all day long. But if I get on with life and forget about the highway, the most dominant noise is the wind, billowing through an utterly shameless profusion of rich green leaves. They are this year’s bumper crop and, out of nowhere, they have filled in winter’s blank spaces by the billions. Where before I could look out across the parking lot at the people lined up in front of the food truck, now I see only a wealth of spring greenery. It is a miracle of rebirth.
The wind touched every one of the trees on my walk this morning, passing through the trees like astral fingers stroking the hair of the earth as the temperature dropped ahead of today’s April shower. Birds rushed to finish their morning business, calling out to one another last minute warnings and desires over the cacophony of road and weather. A Mockingbird chased a Cardinal up a dense leaf-lined avenue overhead, warming the walk with a flash of crimson followed by a white and gray streak. The other birds hid themselves well, not as prone to the Mockingbird’s passion or the Cardinal’s exuberant plumage.
The wind whips up a potent mélange of smells—not all of them natural, but all a welcome deviation from the anodyne air in the office above. Cut grass from the faded green tractor plying the margin of the interstate, delicate flowers peeking out from the sun-dappled spots of bushes along the way. Hot rubber tires. Sighing asphalt. Leaf litter. Unidealized bark.
I lose myself in the symphony of it all and walk through a wisp of Spanish Moss. It reminds me of childhood visits to Memorial Park. Dad playing the part of Old Mr. Green with the Spanish Moss beard. Mom was flabbergasted when I played the part myself later that week. “You’ll get redbugs!” she gasped, and I threw the moss away like some sort of cursed memento mori. But dad didn’t get redbugs, and neither did I. Old Mr. Green was all bugs, though, and leaves and sticks. Old Mr. Green was potent earth and leaf litter chasing children through the park in 1990. He sings to me now from the parking lot outside. You only have to know where to look. You only have to ignore the interstate.
Camera Roll: Calm Spring Afternoon at the Secret Pond
Stopped by the pond and watched the birds for a few minutes this afternoon.
Wild Florida: Red-Shouldered Hawk
Visitor outside of my window at work today. I didn’t see the lizard until I pulled the picture off of the camera.
C.B. Crenshaw 