Frolicking Maidens 233 by Beth Thompson Click image for larger view or to order prints.

While no longer can one wander the hills and river valleys of Georgia and Alabama and stumble across frolicking Cherokee virgins, if you take a side trip north of Montgomery Alabama, you will find frolicking nude Greek statuary in a magnificent garden:

Jasmine Hill Gardens.

Solitary Venus 258 by Beth Thompson Click image for larger view or to order prints.

Unlike its inspiration, the Acropolis of Ancient Greece, Jasmine Hill nymphs and hamadryads are surrounded by the lush green vegetation of the Southeast of the United States.  Above, Venus de Milo sets the stage for the gardens, spreading her attribute of beauty gently over this corner of Alabama like a soft mist.

Also present is William Bartram’s

Envious Matron….Hera.

Envious Matron Hera 201 by Beth Thompson Click image for larger view or to order prints.

She resides in her temple on a hill outside Montgomery, and had seen the Olympic torch carried from Greece to alight at her temple.

The Hotblooded Lads

are also present in Alabama at the Gardens, and no, I am not talking about Alabama rednecks!

Hotblooded Lad 77 by Beth Thompson Click image for larger view or to order prints.

This one resides in the center of a fountain to keep him cool.

Beneath the watchful eyes of the Kore and Hera, the maidens frolic, unaware forever of their observers…..

Kore 177 by Beth Thompson Click image for larger view or to order prints.

Forever dancing over the sylvan scenes, wondered at, photographed, and woven into the fabric of Alabama legend and lore, and placed gently into a

Possible Perception of Dancing Nymphs.

Live Oak on Lagoon by Beth Thompson Click on image to view larger or order prints

A hospitable live oak…

Much like the one William Bartram choose to spend the night beneath on this autumn evening in the 1700′s. Down here south-ways, even live oaks participate in Southern Hospitality.

Rock Shoals Pines by Beth Thompson Click on image to view larger or order prints

Surrounded by a stand of pines…

Such as these, but, I believe, much much larger. This is a stand of young pine trees, taken near Rock Shoals in Athens, however….

Oconee Forest Pine by Beth Thompson

The pine tree above is of a more respectable size, I found it in Oconee Forest, a 100-year-old forest on the University of Georgia Campus. Still, I do not believe it is truly old-growth, as William Bartram’s Stand of Pines must have been.

A dark eclipse comes slowly on!

Crescent Moon by Beth Thompson

And at length, a silver thread encircles her temples…..

Image from Mystic Mamma

William Bartram must have spent half the night watching this eclipse, as lunar eclipses take hours, say 3 or 4. However, he may have only watched the first half, until the moon was fully eclipsed.

How thou art ruffled…

William speaks to the Altamaha, during a tempest. I myself was treated to such a tempest on my recent journey to the coast. Instead of sheltering beneath a live oak, I was driving when the storm hit. Luckily I had just gotten off the interstate in Savannah, and was not obliged to drive at high speeds. At times, my visibility was zero. I pulled off the road finally and waited out the tempest.

A moment of somewhat decent visibility in the rain….

I was grateful for the shelter of my car, however, as I was driving when the rain hit, I think that perhaps William was much safer during the tempest he experienced, beneath the hospitable live oak, if perhaps he was also wetter.

All is deranged…

And in that William referred not so much to the storm, as to the pain we humans go through, when our lofty goals, our higher selves, are thwarted by the baser passions of human nature. Yet, as he implies, we only need have a little patience, a little faith, and This Too Shall Pass, and the sunlight of the spirit will return once again.

Meanwhile, one can make lemonade…

Driving in the Rain: Possible Perception 6039 by Beth Thompson

As I proceeded to do, with this utterly deranged scene outside my windshield, with this lofty goal of great photography leading me to the insane behavior of taking pictures out the windshield while driving with zero visibility. Don’t try this at home kids!

And the sunlight of the spirit gently returns….

Dawning by Beth Thompson: Click on image to view larger or order prints

Something primal…

Ahh, the coast. There is something primal about walking along the surf, with its constant incoming and receding waves. I enter a different frame of mind after just a few moments on the beach, a timelessness surrounds me. Perhaps especially on St. Simons Island, an island I have been visiting since I was a small child, I enter into that timelessness. My mother grew up there, and I spent endless summer days there as a child. My babysitter on St. Simons had some disease where she refused to leave the island, which made perfect sense to me.

Like drops of rain, flowing to the ocean…

So goes the refrain of a Wiccan chant I learned on the streets with my activist friends.

“We all come from the Goddess,

And to her we will return,

Like drops of rain,

Flowing to the ocean.”

Dauphin Island by Beth Thompson

Sea and Sky….

How fascinating it must have been to walk over the dunes, or sand hills as Bartram called them, to end up on the “paved shelly” beach. Before the dunes  had been disturbed by the settlers, before they were logged and boardwalks built. And to sit there, surrounded by the primeval beauty of the ocean and the beach and the sand hills, and contemplate life. Time must have moved so much more slowly then, it seems to race on now, even when I am on the beach half my mind is on to the next thing, and the next.

Sand Dunes by Beth Thompson

I do not know about the fisheries around these islands…

But I do know that the birds abound. Both me and the mergansers like to spend January on the barrier islands, I think they stay longer than I do. Every year I visit my grandparents to do a January Christmas and celebrate my grandmother’s birthday with her. And when we walk along the bays and lagoons that Bartram wrote about, we see the mergansers.

Mergansers by Beth Thompson

Even on the marsh, the beauty is haunting…

I don’t have to visit the beach to be caught up in the timelessness of life on Georgia’s barrier islands. Just a few days on Skidaway, surrounded on all sides by rivers and marshes, will do.

Palm Sunset on Lagoon by Beth Thompson

The cypress trunks beneath the marshes…

That last bit Bartram mentioned, that when the settlers dug into the marshes for their plantings and so forth, they dug but a little before they hit cypress trunks, standing so close together as they now do on the river swamps inshore.

Cypress Trees Standing Close Together by Beth Thompson

Its hard to imagine that the image above became the image below….

Marshes in August by Beth Thompson

If you aren’t living on the edge, then you’re taking up space!

So says Mae West. The marshes are on the edge of ecosystems. The ecosystem of the open sea and the ecosystem of the mainland, of terra-firma, are separated by these marshes. The original settlers called them savannahs. Where two ecosystems meet is an area of richness, of much life. Perhaps that is why I periodically need to visit the coast, to refill my cup with the richness of life that is there. Because, while my cup may sometimes be half empty, and other times half full, it is always, always refillable, and being on the coast refills my soul.

Savannah Possible Perception 6036 by Beth Thompson

Fort Frederica Black and White by Beth Thompson

Synchronicity

Bartram begins his commentary on traveling to Fort Frederica remarking “We are, all of us, subject to crosses and disappointments…” and certainly, the week of my journey to Saint Simmons Island, I was subject to crosses and disappointments. In fact, a situation arose, and I took action, and then fell to berating myself for the action I took. I carried that cross with me down South.

Giving it to the sea…

I first traveled with that cross to Jekyll, where I walked on the beach, still berating myself, and I tried to turn the whole thing over to the gentle waves of the ocean.

Giving it to the wind…

Next I visited Fort Frederica, located on the river and marshes. A storm was blowing up, and the wind was strong and steady, so I gave my troubles to the wind, imagining them being blown away.

Wind Off River 435 by Beth Thompson

There’s a first time for everything…

On my way back up to Savannah, after leaving the wind and the sea behind, it hit me. That particular situation I had been in was totally new to me, I had never experienced it before. And, in realizing that, I also realized I did the best I could at the time, and that my best was actually pretty good. And not only that, I was even willing to look at myself and ask what I could’ve done better.

I became attentive to the Divine Monitor Within…

that William Bartram speaks of. And thanks so much to Bartram, because without him, I would never have traveled to the sea, nor to the wind at Fort Frederica, and had I not, it might have taken me much longer to listen to the Divine Monitor….

Orange Tree at Fort Frederica 372 by Beth Thompson

Fort Frederica: A Possible Perception

I leave you with this perception of Fort Frederica, now a historical monument and no longer a town, flourishing or otherwise. Around it, all of Saint Simmons flourishes, but Frederica quietly sits, bearing oranges.

Fort Frederica: Possible Perception 6037 by Beth Thompson

Live Oak Avenue by Beth Thompson Click on image for larger view and to order prints.

On contemplating

the behavior of William Bartram upon meeting the Angry Indian, so soon after his ill treatment, the following train of sentiments crouded in upon my mind.

Its possible Bartram survived the encounter purely because he turned his will and his life over to The Almighty.

But first, he was stuck in his own will, without the support of God. He attempted to elude the sight of the fearsome Siminole, and failed. He then experienced fear as the Native American galloped up to him, and in that instant, he turned his life or death over to his Almighty.

Once he turned his life over, he experienced tranquility.

In turning over his will and his life, he received the gift of calm. In that calm mind, he was inspired to greet the Indian with good cheer and confidence and offer him his hand.

Avenue with Deer in Savannah by Beth Thompson Click on image for larger view and to order prints.

Bartram co-created his reality with his Higher Power.

I have always felt my relationship with my Higher Power to be a two-way street, I give up some things, such as my will and my life, and gain others, such as a tranquil mind, and inspiration as to my next course of action. I could ignore inspiration if I choose, but often when I follow it, I am rewarded beyond my wildest expectations.

The Indian took Bartram’s hand…

And let him live. The two had a moment of silent communion, where each recognized the other as human. Which then sparked Bartram’s musings as to whether moral principles are innate to all men on earth, regardless of their education, or lack there of.

View of a savannah #193 by Beth Thompson Click on image for larger view and to order prints.

Turning it over with baby sea  turtles.

I have read somewhere, I don’t know where, that when baby sea turtles hatch on the beach, and make their way to the ocean, the waves sometimes knock them back onto the shore. They persist, getting a good drubbing for their efforts, until finally they figure out how to work with the waves and thus enter the sea.

The rescue…

If a human were to come along and rescue the baby sea turtle, lifting him over the breakers and placing him in the sea, the turtle would fail to learn what it needs to know about the sea, and thus it would not survive.

That’s how I turn it over.

I struggle, I fight, I get stuck in my will pitted against a greater power. And then, when I figure out how to align my will with that greater power, ahhhh. How easy it all suddenly seems to be. And yet, and yet, I want to berate myself, how could I not have done this sooner, aligned my will sooner, why did I fight?

The reminder of the baby sea  turtle…

is that I needed to fight. I needed to try one thing, and then another, and then another until I find out what doesn’t work, and I need that process, the process of struggle, the process of failure, the process of figuring out how to turn my will over to a power greater than myself through failure, through a process of elimination.

Sometimes a turtle needs rescue…

Such as the turtles I photographed at the Georgia Sea Turtle Center on Jekyll Island.  Many of the turtles there came in “debilitated”, short-hand for covered with barnacles and other plants that made it impossible for them to eat enough to carry all the extra weight on their shells.

The white spots are bone…

Where the people at the rescue center cleaned the shell of its flora, which took the living shell off the back of the turtle. The turtles are kept in shallow pools in the rescue center until their shells can grow back. The darker brown is the living shell growing back over the bone.

Exotic Animal Vet….

While I was there I was treated to see the vet’s assistants treat two other animals. One was a little terrapin with a cut on it’s back leg. The other was a baby owl, fallen from the nest. The veternarian has a liscense to work on exotic animals. I never thought of exotic animals being the normal fauna of the Southeast, but apparently, if it’s not domesticated, it’s exotic.

The Rescue Terrapin….

And the rescue owl…

Final Notes…

I leave you with this video, taken of a young sea turtle in the Georgia Sea Turtle Rescue Center on Jekyll Island.

This week I am traveling on the Bartram Trail in Alabama! Check out the map from the folks over at www.bartramtrail.org!

In Montgomery, I am taking a long awaited visit to Jasmine Hill Gardens, which somewhat post-date Bartram. There is also a William Bartram Arboretum I will be exploring with my camera.

In Mobile, I will be taking pictures of Fort Conde and canoeing on the William Bartram Canoe Trail.

But don’t hold your breath for the pictures! Upcoming in the William Bartram Challenge are….

Sea Turtles!

And William Bartram’s stay at….

Fort Frederica!

Not to mention…

Sand Dunes and Beaches!

Plus…

A torrential rain!

Click Here to Enter Beth’s Travels Gallery

Spanish Moss on Loopy Vines # 330: On the Bartram Trail by Beth Thompson

Blue Mosses in a Sea of Red by Beth Thompson

The best time…

To visit a rocky outcrop in Georgia is in late February, early March, the day after a rainfall. Its when the tiny plant, Diamorpha smallii, is first coming up. It makes a dramatic appearance, for such a tiny plant. Carpeting the stones with a scarlet shawl, here and there, in patches, combined with the blue of the sky reflected in the waters pouring over the rock, Rocky Outcrops in Georgia become one of the most dramatic and beautiful places on earth at this time of year.

Water, Rock, Moss by Beth Thompson

Sweet Surrender

The water that the reading remarked upon embraces the rocks and obstacles in its path. It flows around and over the rocks. Imagine if the water stopped to argue with the obstacles in its path. It would be like the world as we know it had turned on its head. Yet the water does not, it simply flows on to the path of least resistance, ever downward, on its journey home to the sea.

Juniper Island by Beth Thompson

Here grows Juniperus americana

One of the few trees that can survive the harsh environment of sudden waters and long dry spells on the granite, a desert-like environment, makes a dramatic appearance too upon the rock. sunlight shafting through its branches and needles, the rich green moss growing beneath. Juniperus shelters other plants and allows grasses to grow as the absorbent moss must nourish it with water during the dry spells.

D. Smallii by Beth Thompson

Dynamite!

A granite outcrop hangs in the balance here in Athens. Cedar Shoals may soon shatter with dynamite, its  unique ecology, rare plants, and extraordinary beauty lost forever. There’s an article on the subject in the local paper, The Flagpole, which asks whether perhaps we can make Cedar Shoals a centerpiece of our downtown area instead of broken shards. I find it especially wasteful when schools, roads, and other city parts are named Cedar Shoals like that very outcrop.

Environments

Environmental degradation is a theme of our society these days. Progress marches ever onward, with no regard for pristine worlds, or even the realization that its the very environment that makes humans, and our progress, possible. I think too individuals are mirrors of the environmental degradation, as we degrade environments, we degrade ourselves. As the waters of the rocky outcrops reflect the sky so we as humans reflect our society’s values.

For now…

Some of our granite is protected. Perhaps only because its forgotten. Or because it’s a tourist site, like Stone Mountain in Atlanta. Or because, some of us humans raised the hue and the cry when development was planned. So, here and there, scattered across the Georgia landscape, lie the bare bones of the mountains that have worn down into the hills of the Georgia Piedmont, places with a desert environment and an unusual color and beauty.

True Confessions

Bartram didn’t write that audio reading. I did. I couldn’t find a passage in Travels on the granite outcrops in Georgia, so I made up my own. I hope you enjoyed it!

Jasmine…ahh.. Sweet Jasmine…

There are many things I can transmit over the internet. Words, ideas, theories. Adventures. Stories. Pictures, Visual Fine Art. And my Voice, reading William’s words from the 1700′s to you. Songs. I can even transmit video, photography in motion. But those most primal senses, taste, touch, sadly I cannot bottle up and send to you. The scent of jasmine in full blossom on a warm humid evening you will simply have to travel to the jasmine to smell.

Instead of Hummingbirds hovering…

The jasmine on my back patio was teaming with bumblebees and honey bees. I haven’t seen any hummingbirds tasting its nectar, perhaps between me and the dog Luna they have found a safer source.

Expanding Beauty…

I got the jasmine pictures just right, the night after I photographed them, a violent storm blew through the neighborhood and knocked most of the blossoms off the vine onto the ground. A few remained, and finding myself home at sunset, I grabbed my camera for a few last shots before the blossoms are gone for the year.

Another way of looking…

I leave you with this: as Jennifer from Inspired Home Office says: “Take a minute to soak in the bliss.”