Little Blue Heron

Joy! The weather is cooler, the hordes of mosquitoes are dissipating, and the birds are back in the Southern Everglades. Last week’s visit to the Anhinga Trail in Everglades National Park brought delightful discoveries all along the 0.8 mile paved trail and boardwalk. I have captured a few of them to share with you.

Great Blue Herons fished along the trail-side canal.

Great Blue Heron

Often they would take to the skies with huge graceful wings pumping air as they flew.

Great Blue Heron in Flight

Anhingas perched along the shore before diving for their next aquatic meal.

Female Anhinga

This Tricolored Heron waded among colorful water plants in search of prey.

Tricolored Heron

Perky Green Herons fished from low-lying branches. This little guy raised his crest, Mohawk style, in response to a territorial intruder.

Green Heron

New treats for the eyes and soul appeared at every turn of the trail. This Everglades vista beckoned me from the boardwalk to pause and breathe deeply of the refreshing breeze, enjoy the warm sunlight, and listen to the gentle rustle of tall grasses.

Scene along the Anhinga Trail Boardwalk

I eagerly await opportunities to explore the never ending beauty of Everglades National Park during the winter and spring seasons. I find this untouched wildness restorative and exciting at the same time. It is a place of beauty that each person enjoys in response to their personal awareness and need–a unique place to connect with God’s creation.

Bees on Spatterdock

Our recent October trip through Great Smoky Mountain National Park coincided with a cold front that dropped considerable rain on the usually dry autumn mountains. My husband’s and my disappointment over gray skies soon turned to elation as we discovered full waterfalls and raging streams and rivers. Our travels along Little River Road on the Tennessee side of the park revealed the swollen Little River. Naturally, we stopped to take photographs.

Raging Little River, Tennessee--Great Smoky Mountain National Park

We were joined at one stop along the river by men in wetsuits. They studied the river, discussing passages around boulders and through whirling eddies. Above, an old tree stump seemed to look down on the visitors with a foreboding frown.

River Sentinel

Curious, I asked one man about their intentions. Before jumping in his car, he explained that they planned to run the rapids in their kayaks.  I looked at the river and wondered how they could navigate such whitewater. Farther down the road, we noticed a collection of parked cars so we pulled over and hastened to the river to investigate.  Several whitewater kayakers gathered in the boiling water above a treacherous S-curve leading around a dangerous looking promontory. Later, I wondered if this was the legendary Mary’s Rock that hid a hole where a careless kayaker could be trapped. While I watched, the kayakers entered the downstream current one at a time for what must have been a thrilling ride.

Running the Rapids

This gentleman appeared to be the group’s leader. He was the first one through the rapids and he waited in an area of calm water until each person safely navigated the S-curve.

Safely Through

While searching for information on whitewater kayaking in Great Smoky Mountain National Park, I found an Extreme Kayaking You Tube video that you might enjoy watching. I believe it was taken at the same place on Little River.

I’m hoping to return to the park in the spring for a photography workshop when once again mountain fed rivers run full. I wonder what serendipitous experiences spring will bring to this mountainous masterpiece of creation.

Looking Glass Falls, Pisgah National Forest, North Carolina

While wonder-walking in forested reverence

Only a wren’s call fell through sunbeams,

Punctuating wind rustled leaves.

Then, I heard your distant roar.

My heart leapt as I turned to pursue you,

With upturned ear and feet ascending

Over rocky crag and laurel hugged path,

Drawn by your pulsating frenzy.

Breathless, I found you

Wildly dashing to your precipice.

Then, abandoned you grasped the air

Where in glorious freedom you fell.

Sunlight danced upon your face

While rainbows played within your mist

Just as you caught your breath,

Before plunging into aqua deep.

There you swirled by speckled trout

Before resuming your steady race

Over riverbed your artistry carved

Suspended, I watched— lost in your beauty.

Meigs Falls, Great Smoky Mountain National Park

My husband and I have visited a lot of state parks, but never one so unique as Cass Scenic Railroad State Park. Hearing glowing reports of a ride on a steam-powered logging train up the third highest mountain in West Virginia during the peak of fall color piqued our curiosity. So, we made our way over winding mountain roads to the town of Cass where we spent the night camping in the depot’s parking lot. In the morning we secured tickets for the 4 1/2 hour ride to a stop in Whittaker and up  Back Allegheny Mountain to the summit, Bald Knob. After a welcome breakfast of eggs, sausage, and biscuits we joined the gathering crowd to await the approach of our locomotive.  A loud oscillating whistle and billows of steam announced the grand entrance of Shay locomotive # 6.

Shay Locomotive # 6

Seats were first come, first serve. We found bench seats on one of the last open cars and soon we were on our way pushed up the mountain by the mighty piston pumping, black smoke belching, largest surviving Shay locomotive in the world.

On our Way

After following beautiful Leather Bark Creek, and negotiating switchbacks to gain altitude, we arrived at Whittaker. Climbing out to get a better look at our engine and a recreated 1940’s logging camp constructed by the Mountain State Railroad & Logging Historical Association we marveled at the well conceived historical site. You may be interested in photos on the historical association’s website showing the construction of the Whittaker logging camp.

In this photo you can see that our engine is in the pushing rather than pulling position.

Shay # 6 at Whittaker

This photo shows two flatbed cars loaded with logs. In the background you can spot the Lidgerwood tower skidder that brought freshly cut logs out of the forest.

Tower Skidder and Flatbeds bearing Logs

Of special note was the brightly colored caboose parked on a siding.

Elk River Coal & Lumber Company Caboose

Ready to Continue up Back Allegheny Mountain to Bald Knob

After re-boarding, we continued up the mountain, amazed at the locomotives powerful pulsing as we mounted grades up to 11 %. On the way, we stopped at Oats Run to take on water from a  spring. The tracks took us through beautiful hardwood forests rich with vibrant color until suddenly the forest changed to Spruce. That’s not all that changed–a cold front moved in bringing drizzling rain and fog. The temperature at 4,700 feet dropped to 37 degrees. We hadn’t dressed for those temperatures! An observation platform was completely enshrouded in a misty cloud.

Bald Knob Overlook

One creature who didn’t mind the cold, a hungry doe, approached the train looking for handouts.

Hungry Doe

After a brief stop, we descended. Occasionally the fog would clear and give us glimpses of fall’s glory.

View from the Train, Bald Knob

Even though we felt cold and damp, the trip was worth every minute. We hope to go again someday.

Logging at Cass stopped in 1960 and in 1963 the town of Cass and its railroad became a West Virginia State Park. The Park owns six Shay engines, a Climax, and a Heisler. All are geared locomotives designed with articulating trucks to navigate the hairpin turns on irregular tracks laid atop the ground. Direct gearing is provided to every wheel.

Shay # 6

Our Shay engine was built for the Western Maryland Railway Company. Redeemed from the Baltimore & Ohio Museum, the Cass Scenic Railroad acquired it in 1980. You must experience a ride on the Cass Scenic Railroad to appreciate the incredible power of this 162 ton locomotive. There is nothing like the pulsating push of this enormous workhorse as coal black smoke chugs from its smokestack or the mighty pssssst of rolling white steam as it discharges from the pressure-relief valve. If you haven’t discovered the romance of railroading, then this is one experience you should seek. It might even turn you into a railroad aficionado.

Every season has a characteristic appearance. At its peak, fall is renowned for a collage of unequaled color. My husband and I recently took to the road to immerse ourselves in autumn splendor. We began in the beautiful Shenandoah region of Virginia where the leaves had just  started to turn.

Shenandoah Fall

As we wound our way across the Valley toward the higher elevations of West Virginia, every mountain switchback brought scenes of breathtaking beauty. We took each opportunity to pull off the road–without endangering ourselves or others. Sometimes that meant hopping guardrails perched atop breath-catching drop-offs to trudge through thickets of tall grass, brambles, and stick-tights. (I must have pulled 50 of the nuisances off my clothing at one stop.)

Roadside Grandeur

Each new vista was worth stopping to enjoy. We could see for miles. At this visit the mountainside was paved with lichen-laden stones. A gentle breeze sent golden leaves raining down on the forest floor.

Golden Rain

At higher elevations, every mountain side exploded in a mosaic of shades of yellow, red, and orange.

Whittaker, West Virginia

Here are a few closeups of fall foliage.

Maple on Fire

Maple Mania

Blood Red Oak

Finally, this struggling maple sapling caught my eye. It grew out of the rocky wall of a rain-swollen, raging river. Amazed by its singular charm and awed by its tenacity, I had to capture it. I hope to frame the image for my wall, not because it’s a great photograph, but because it reminds me that beauty can exist in the most difficult of circumstances. Life’s challenges ebb and flow, just like the river, so it is likely that I may need the sapling’s reminder some time in the future. Perhaps God put it there just for you and me.

Wild River Maple

Shortened days and cooler nights signal the Appalachians to prepare for winter’s wardrobe. The trees celebrate autumnal equinox with a festival of color. Donning their brightest red, shocking orange, purple, and gold, they wave farewell as they toss their leaves to the wind like confetti.

Lured to follow fall’s path, I discovered vistas of breath-taking beauty. Come with me over the next few weeks to discover the natural majesty of fall kissed mountain forests, valleys, and rivers.

Black-faced sheep graze on succulent grasses as vibrant woodland topiary portend barren fields of snow.

From the shelter of branch and thicket a watchful doe herd braves fence and open field to forage for tender shoots.

Bright blue skies and windswept clouds caress variegated mountain ridges.

Cool air rushes in, leaving a cloak of fog over mountain and river while Canada Geese pause to feed and groom before resuming their southerly migration.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

Tucked in the rolling hills of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, a grist mill rests from nearly two centuries of toil. Now silent, it stands as a reminder the essential milling of the yearly grain harvest for family farmers who in turn fed the nation with bread, the staff of life. A roadside marker gives a brief history of the Andrew Zirkle Grist Mill.

Water no longer rushes through the mill race to spin a wooden water wheel and power the giant millstones that forced wheat berries into fine flour.

Mill Race

One can almost hear the splash of falling water and feel the rhythmic heart beat of whirling gears and stone that ran from dawn to dusk.

Shafts, gears, and stones, their useful days ended, now lay cold under a blanket of dust in an open shed.

Closed, but in company of river and stately walnut trees, the well-preserved structure stands for curious admirers to wonder over hand-hewn wood and stone so expertly placed in generations past.

What souls trod these grounds? What millers’ skill drew wagons grain-laden from near and far?

Settle on the grass and ponder this: Is it truly progress that feeds us faux fare that can not sustain? Have we come so far from the miller’s craft that we have lost the life-giving goodness of bread made close to the field with flour warm from the grist mill stone? I wonder.

Royal Terns on Little Bahia Honda

Near the southern end of US 1 in the Florida Keys lies one of the most beautiful stretches of beaches in the United States. Bahia Honda State Park, 33 miles north of Key West, spreads its 524 island acres along 2 1/2 miles of Atlantic Beach and across the island to a swim beach and marina on the Gulf of Mexico.

Bahia Honda State Park Entrance

One of our favorite vacation spots, we went there for a weekend of camping, boating, and snorkeling. As the early morning sky lightened, we rushed from our campsite to the beach to watch the sunrise.

Good Morning Bahia Honda

A short distance off shore on the Atlantic side is Little Bahia Honda, an island favorite of sea and wading birds and a delightful place to view tropical fish in shallow water. While my family snorkeled, I concentrated on the island’s bird life.  A Snowy Egret chose the rocky island shore for a fishing expedition.

Snowy Egret with Sargeant Major

I spent considerable time following this beautiful bird around the island. The wind had kicked up a bit blowing the Egret’s feathers around and causing it to stop for a bit of feather rearranging.

Fluffed Up

A lone Willet, several Plovers, and Sandpipers ran busily over the island picking up bits of food left by the high tide.

Shore Birds on Little Bahia Honda

Willet Walking around a Tidal Pool

My granddaughter found a Moon Jellyfish that had been stranded on the last tide. She tried to “revive” it, but it had been out of the water too long. Still, it was a wonder to examine.

Moon Jellyfish

After a delightful time exploring Little Bahia Honda, the Snowy Egret that I had shadowed for most of the afternoon flew back to Bahia Honda.

Farewell to Little Bahia Honda

We decided to follow.

Bahia Honda's Bayside Beach

I hope you will, too. Bahia Honda State Park is a gem strung on the chain of islands that makes up the Florida Keys. If you enjoy picnicking, swimming, snorkeling, fishing, kayaking, boating, hiking, bird or butterfly watching, or beach combing; this is the place for you. It is a true seaside delight.

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Great Egret Contour Feather and Breeding Plume

Swathed in morning’s calm

I probe each feather

Slipping it through oil moistened beak

Locking each barbule into place

Forming shields against sky and sea

Deeper I push

Rustling fluffed down into place

Nibbling along each shaft

Cleaning, restoring from quill to tip

Shaking away feather dust

Ascending lofty branches

Grooming neck and elegant head

Long toes and curved nails combing

Investigating, sorting

Queenly attire

Mounting the newborn breeze

I return to fertile pond

Gliding onto still waters

Freshened for the day

Tasting life

Great Egret

Little did I know when I stole out of the house in last remains of night that it would be a blue morning. Several stars twinkled above my head as the moon gave a Cheshire grin. I headed for my first destination, a rocky beach, in hopes of capturing the sunrise. Arriving well before dawn, I waited as ebony surrendered to deepest blue.

Three Palmettos Await Dawn

I inched my vehicle into a parking spot not wanting to break the reverent stillness of the moment. On the beach, water lapped against limestone rocks as the rush of white ibis wings passed over the awakening sea.

Wings at Sunrise

I lingered there until the sun burst bright and bold over the landscape and then drove to a nearby oceanside hammock. I hoped to find shorebirds feeding along the water’s edge, but a surprise awaited me. A parigean spring tide, resulting from the fall alignment of earth and moon had flooded most of the parking lot. Along the inundated periphery, a variety of my favorite birds foraged for food. No wonder the moon grinned so mischievously. As I advanced on a flock of feeding Ibises several Little Blue Herons erupted from their midst. This one landed in front of me.The herons had been sharing some of the food stirred up by the Ibises’  feet. With a two-legged intruder present, they opted for foraging in the mangroves for insects. Intrigued, I waited quietly as they hid among the shaded leaves. Soon, they cautiously reappeared  one by one.

Insect Hunt

These were the first Little Blue Herons that I had seen so close to salt water. Usually, I spotted them in freshwater ponds of the Everglades, so I enjoyed this bit of serendipity.

On the Prowl

I love their coloration–slate blue on their bodies with a flare of maroon around their necks. Their pale blue beaks end in a black tip. I think they’re exquisite.

Little Blue

So, if my morning appeared blue, it was in the dreamiest sense, relaxed and comfortable–the perfect way to start a day. Ahh…