Spent Saturday morning at the Harry P. Leu Gardens in Orlando for the annual plant sale. Came home with several wonderful new plants for the yard, but this guy insisted on being a part of our lives, too. We couldn’t resist. Still trying to figure out his name.
Lake Morton, in Lakeland, Florida is filled with easy shots. I admit it – I took the easy shots. The only one of these that required anything of me was the Ibis with his face of curiosity. He would only approach if you weren’t looking. I love the faces of the birds that I encounter – they are so filled with expression, even if it is the expression that I assign them through personification. Saturday was glorious and warm and a short day trip was the perfect thing.
Cocoa Beach on a whim, we take sushi and chairs, questing the full cold moon’s rise over the ocean. The beach is a violent place with wind that yanks my hair from its spring clip and waves that out-shout the terns and ring-billed gulls. A little boy just to our left flaps and screams in the language of the birds, they scatter and return for more of the communion. Plovers and sanderlings —wind-up toys racing over the footprint moguls — this is dinner and a show. Three floating islands leave Port of Canaveral and pass that warm, cold moon that has appeared in a blink of recognition, larger than the setting sun at our backs. I chase the terns into your waiting camera; we drive thirty-seven miles back, emptying sand from our shoes, treasuring the message we found in a bottle.
When all at once a summer evening rain deepens the leaves and grass to bottle green and the lake turns dusky grey with pockmark drops strewn as confetti on the face of it. I grab my camera and shoot the sky (rather than the moon) until russet brown movement across the water catches my peripheral. Two young deer have come out of the woods; they frolic like bent legged dogs darting to the water for a drink, back to the chase and tag, and before I can zoom and click, they have slipped into the trees and are gone. We go back inside and listen in the quiet of the darkness to thunder and our hearts beating in time with the elusive earth’s depth