Primal Power

There is something primal, raw, and powerful about standing in the mouth of the 3rd largest navigable river on earth that puts “all that is” in perspective.

One small human in the broad riverscape, I felt diminutive, and found it difficult to comprehend this place where the Southern Indian Ocean tides feed the mouth of Millewa “Big Water”.

I stood on the salt-water soaked sand, realizing she had just been there lapping against the dunes. Looking out toward where she had retreated and marveling at her strength and beauty, I felt trepidation growing inside me. There was nothing between me and her spare a narrow sand bar with a pod of playful Australian sea lions and a sand-dredger. Though I knew the tide was out, I did not know for how long and the only exit behind me was the sluice of land that funneled her mighty, salty fluid into the river.

Taking all this in, I stood mesmerized, thrilled to explore the mix of sensations: danger, fear, awe, vastness, smallness. I was giddy with the sheer joy of being witness, no, being in the raw energy of untamed creation!

Surrounded by black swans, grey teal ducks, two Red-necked avocets, an Eastern reef egret, Australian white Ibis, a pair of Red-capped plovers, a sooty oystercatcher, Pacific black ducks, and silver gulls so at ease in their element, I took comfort in their lead.

 My camera clicked and buzzed, attempting to record the moment. I wanted to memorize her sound and the feel of her vibration in my limbs as she pounded against the shoreline.

My feet began to sink deeper into the sand, getting wetter with each step and I recognized it was time to bid farewell. I thanked her for allowing me to be part of her

…and for bestowing her gifts upon me.

Once home in the U.S., the intensity of my Millewa experience lingered and urged me to learn more about this sacred place. I quickly realized that some of what I was feeling was the energies of an ancient Aboriginal culture dating back 40,000 years! More than 3000 of the Ngarrindjeri people ("the people who belong to this land") had lived at the mouth of the river, gathering fish and working the land.

In the 1990’s, a huge controversy erupted over the building of the bridge from Goolwa to the island.

Hindmarsh Island, on which I stood, was regarded by the Ngarrindjeri as a fertility site, as its shape and that of the surrounding wetlands resembled female reproductive anatomy when viewed from the air. Their name for the island, Kumarangk, was similar to the word for pregnancy, or woman and was used for sacred rituals.

They also believed that the waters of the Goolwa channel required uninterrupted views of the sky, particularly the Seven Sisters constellation, which features in several aboriginal dreaming stories.

Wow! Yes, the red dot is where I stood!!! No wonder…

More on the bridge controversy

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindmarsh_Island_bridge_controversy

How the Murray River was Made- Dreamtime Bangarang story

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TgjY27Sy48g

Aboriginals and the river

http://www.murrayriver.com.au/about-the-murray/

Riverside Dining

What is it about “nature” that intimidates people so? The responses from clients when asked “What do you like to do outside?” seem to be sadly typical of the general working populace: “There is no nature where I work/live/am.” “It’s too hot/cold/windy/rainy out there.” “I don’t have time to be just staring at some birds.” “My knee/hip/back/pain limits my activity.”

In my recent visit to Branson, Missouri, I encountered the typical navigational challenges while making my way down the too-narrow main street filled with vehicles jostling for position, their passengers looking and pointing at the myriad eateries and attractions, as tourists do.

I quickly realized that my heart was not in the tourist game, especially on a warm and humid day in June. I managed to go with the flow of traffic toward what seemed like the edge of the city only to find a shopping mall, a parking garage, a train station, and a Bass Pro Shop. My hands were gripping the steering wheel, my shoulders were tight, and I felt my blood pressure rising. Breathing deeply, I focused on the road beyond the crowded crosswalk. I saw water! Sure enough, nestled on the southeast side of the city was a parking lot right on the White River!

Rock cliffs rose up on the eastern side of the river, two bridges traversed the moderate expanse and a small RV park was underneath the one closest to my right. I sighed deeply as I relaxed into the surroundings, feeling much less tense. My car positioned at the water’s edge, I pulled out organic veggies and hummus from the cooler and settled in to enjoy a riverside repast.

Visitors came and went in the parking lot, a traveling family also came to dine, a tram tour made its turnaround, boaters cruised up and down the river, 

a duck boat tour squawked a narrative as it passed by and soon a fisherman waded into the water to my left, startling the blue heron that had been sentry near the shore. 

Swallows flitted and chased, pigeons sat on the overhead wires, and a father mallard was coaching his brood in the art (and science to be sure) of swimming.

Three times the sky darkened and light rain fell, causing a beautiful mist to rise off the water, swallowing the heron.

Canada geese glided by undeterred, and I marveled at the beauty of raindrops as they hit the water.

I gave silent thanks to the city, town, county, state, and national parks and the caretakers of the grounds, plants, and trees that adorn our waterways, village streets, and parking lots with nature attractants. They are not recognized enough for providing healing places for humans to be. All we have to do is expand our awareness to see and experience the calming influence of the natural world surrounding us.

S.O.S.!

"Save Our Souls!" went the old cry. S.O.S! Enough, already! Its' here somewhere. I know it is. So why cant I see it? Yes, its that time of year again when, especially for "northern New Englanders", we've had our fill of single digits, icy windshields, and shoveling. Truth is, the pretty white stuff is not so pretty anymore, having been doused with dirt, sand, and salt on our roadways. The roads themselves are narrower and have plenty of new potholes, and our driveways, well...just imagine 4-5 foot tunnel-like walls of white to greet you when you get home each night for, say, 90 nights!

I'm shouting "Signs Of Spring!" from here on out. Let's begin our watch of the natural world... 'cuz nature knows before we do! And its very darn cute, too.

It's melting!!

 Chickadees are busy on the sunflower seed feeder.

 I love that the Nuthatches hang upside down, daring to be different!

A pair of Tufted Titmice.

Red-Bellied Woodpecker

An unexpected visitor...a porcupine leaving the yard after munching on some bird seed at the feeder! He/she was quite entertaining whilst having to lift each paw up high to walk through the four-plus feet of snow in the yard, hind end waddling and tail dragging. I guess porcupines aren't equipped with snowshoe feet.

Trumpeter Swans frolicking and honking in Oneida Lake!

Post your S.O.S. here. Give a shout out for Spring!

Retake: An Iron on the Floor

Friday I traveled northward from South Padre Island, Texas toward the eventual departure destination of Houston. Anticipating my first tub bath in over six weeks, a four-pound carton of Epsom salts rode shotgun. I arrived at the half-way point on North Padre Island to find that the guided bird walk at Mustang Island State Park was cancelled due to blustery conditions.

Bundled in a long-sleeved shirt, hoodie, raincoat, and gloves, I donned my binoculars for my own “look-sea”. Silly girl. Only a handful of gulls and some brave house sparrows managed to stay grounded enough to peck in the sand for food. I did meet a merry threesome of ladies from Minnesota acting like they had never seen the ocean. With my finger inadvertently on some special button, the camera phone whipped out 27 shots of the auspicious occasion (of which I have none)!

 I continued to explore up and down beach access roads and rain-made marshes along Mustang Island. I spotted many of my favorite shorebirds: Ibis, Common terns, Willets, and a lineup of Great Blue Herons and Snowy Egrets! 

The day soon grew darker and I decided to check into the hotel and prepare for the long-awaited bath. I shed my layers and placed toiletries at their stations, shotgun Epsom at the ready. Plenty of time for a shower to fix my hair, then a bath after dinner, I planned. I turned the shower handle to midway between blue and red. Cool water. I pushed the handle to mid-red. Still cool. I pushed the handle as far as it would go. A little warmer. Okay, so it needs to run longer to warm up, I muttered. Standing in naked anticipation, I waited. I opened the sink faucet to red. Lukewarm. Five minutes more. I checked the shower water. Nope. I called the front desk clerk who called the maintenance guy. Thirty minutes later came a knock on the door. So I had to get (re)dressed. He tested both faucets, stepping on the clean bathmat all the while (my facial grimace was not pretty).

He quickly departed, stating he knew the source of the problem and that he would return. I made a phone call and rearranged my suitcase. Tick, tock it was five o’clock! I calmly resolved to get dressed and have dinner. On the way out, I inquired about the status of my hot water. “It’s fixed,” was the clerk's reply. I reported that the water was still cold and that the fix-it fella had not returned. “It has to run longer (than ten minutes) when there are so few people here, and we just had a new water pump installed. He probably went to the Holiday Inn to get more tools,” she offered. At this point, I assigned my angels to the case and set out to find a “Doc’s margarita”.  

I followed the GPS to the water’s edge and onto the causeway. “Take exit,” it said. A short gravel road took me under the bridge to narrow beach where I found a family of stray cats, laughing gulls (yes, loudly laughing), some fishermen, and a flock of White Pelicans! I snapped a few shots of them and the sweet GPS lady said, “Get out of the car and walk to your destination.” 

I looked up and saw neon lights spelling “Doc’s Seaside”. Too bad there was a several hundred feet of water between us! 

Back in the car and over the bridge I went to the second “troll road”, this time leading to the treasure: a real bird’s-eye view, amazing food, and my last island margarita! 

The return to the hotel was joyfully uneventful and the clerk, who readily recognized me as “room 222”, assured me that the hot water was fixed. With sweet anticipation, I juggled a full 1.5 liter bottle of water, a small purse, a dessert box (for later), a notebook, and the keycard to open the door. No green light. Again... Nope. And why is there an iron in the way? Downstairs at the desk, I held up my card. She didn't even ask, just re-swiped it and handed it back. Got it. I picked up the water bottle and the iron (I had not trusted the dessert alone on the floor while I was gone), then checked the closet. There was already an iron hanging on the wall. Hot water? In thirty seconds. Yes!

Sinking into the hot water, I heard the blup, blup of the tub's overflow and I was there! I rejoiced as I envisioned happy little magnesium cells swimming through my skin and into my bloodstream.

While an iron sat outside the door on the floor.