"Hurray", I say to myself, "Tis only an hour to low tide"
And if you are very brave to Goose and Gander you
might go. Putting on old sneakers, I run through foxtails
and needlegrass, dropseed and hawkweed to the granite
shelves of Flye Point. The tide is ebbing and I can see
the walkway of broken shells and barnacle rocks out to
the "Hub" and the islands beyond.
Was it only six hours ago,
the sea was surging on this rocky shore,
Brimming full, surging steadily, running, skipping
in lacy cascades of foam over jutting seaweed rocks?
Was it my imagination, I ponder
as I view this restful, calm scene?
But on the ebb, the tide is more peaceful
And as I walk across the slippery rocks, I
I see snails scraping, scraping, scraping
to find food before the surf returns;
I see barnacles, like drifts of old snow,
blanketing rocks, their sharp cones sprinkling
over empty mussel shells and skeletons of
purple sea urchins and the hard stipes
of deep-water seaweeds, all mingled
in the flotsam of the tide.
Rockweed abounds as do smaller patches
of green weed, stringy as mermaids' hair,
turning white and crinkly, as the sun dries them
like clothes on a line.
The herring gulls are noisy, no longer content
to rest on ledges of rock, dry above the surf.
Instead they congregate around tidepools
in the rocks, pacing with grave intentness,
for their noon-time meal.
As I scamper over the boulders,
I see crabs sidling along the walls of rock pools,
their claws busily touching, feeling, exploring
for tiny bits of food.
The Ledge out to Gander, which was covered
by pounding surf only a short while ago,
is now visible. It's at this point, I wade into
the water, first up to my ankles, then my
knees and finally my thighs are stinging
from the cold water. But I trudge on for
in just a few minutes I will have reached my
goal...the islands off Flye Point. First Gander,
then Goose, over the boulders to Flye Island
and out to the Lighthouse on Green where a
light keeps vigil through the fog and rain.
Each time I come to Flye, I take this familiar hike
and think of a cold October day when ashes I did carry,
ashes of a young man, I scattered in the wind.
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Comments: 77
What beautiful pictures and what a story!
Thanks for stopping by Margaret on the hike out to the islands. The scene always changes here between high tide and low, and yet it remains the same. At High tide, the islands are so distant and yet on the ebb, one can walk out as if on a boardwalk over mussels, rocks and barnacles.
Thank you for taking us along, Elizabeth. Delightful poetry and lovely photos.
Thanks John for stopping by....I'm really an image taker not a poet, I dare say.
beautiful, I love your adventures! Isn't the ocean an amazing thing. The sea urchin picture is awesome!
I love the walk out to the islands. Bridget...so many treasures one can find. I limit myself to keeping just 5 to bring back to the cottage.
Elizabeth, I can't find the proper words other than I absolutely loved this - your writing - the photos. In spite of the beauty surrounding you, I felt your lonliness, and even it was beautiful.
Thank you Marie for your kind words...you felt my heartstrings.
Heh, heh! Goose and Gander, Monomoy... You really do like places you can only get to at low tide, don't you? No wonder you liked Sakonnet Point!
Great stuff, Bob!
I'm still thinking Block Island, Roy. I don't think I have ever been there.
Just beautiful! I can almost smell the area - your pictures are wonderful! Glad you were able to get out to the islands...at least when it is not high tide!
I actually got out to the islands twice during my 9 day stay at Flye Point.... one a rather cloudy, drizzily day and the other a gorgeous sunny day. These images are from both days. I wrote the poem after the first hike and then felt the need to capture on my lens more images.
i love your words and especially the photos. What is the purple thing? I am a landlubber.
A sea urchin, Kathryn. Incredible pattern, wouldn't you say.
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Thanks for the feature in the Triple Name Club.
This is a wonderful photo essay
Thanks Flit. My fingers are crossed prayin' that you get the house.
An undescribable, austere beauty and a charming essay! :-) Excellent!
Blessings and best wishes in a plenty - S.
Many thanks, Svetlana, I bow to you.
Bob, It felt like I was there myself through your words. Your descriptions were great. This was a wonderful trip across that water. This is much like Holy Ground I think to you. Blessings.
It is Holy Ground to me....my own little piece of Heaven despite the broken shells and barnacles, a place close to my heart.
As usual, your photos are incredibly beautiful, Bob... you take us along with you through your unerring camera lens. Your words that accompany the photos keep us anchored to your visions and at the end, emotionally touched by the image of you scattering the ashes of your son in one of his favorite places.
It was one of Aaron's favorite spots on Earth....I can still remember our first trip to Flye when he discovered you could walk out to the islands at low tide... pure wonder and excitement. I carry that look in my mind as I walk... knowing he is in a place he found beautiful.
It seems like such a magical place Bob. Thank you for sharing your wonderful words and wisdom with us.
It is magical, JR...thanks for stopping by.
I would LOVE to go see this place! You have taken us all on a trip that is beautiful and exciting and sad at the end. Thank you
I didn't mean for it to be sad...only the truth to convey why I love this crust of earth so much and why I keep coming back.
This is so moving, you bring your photos to life. I can see why you take this walk year after year. The beauty of this area has so much to say and teach about life.
Thanks so much for sharing with my group.
“TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON, AND A TIME TO EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew, a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.”
(Eccl 3:1-8)
:)
Ageless verse, so very true.
BIG SIGH. Sea smells-----------Missing that here in the Midwest!
I'm sending some on the breeze, Carolion...the sweet smell of the sea.
Thank you for sharing this sacred place. Love both your photography and poetry, Bob!
So glad you could accompany me on this hike, Linda.
Thanks, Elizabeth, for sending this to us once again. We are featuring this lovely piece today at Home Comfort
Thanks Natalie for the feature in Home Comfort.
You have once again managed to lull me into another great photo essay! Thank you for taking me along on this obviously important journey the the islands.
Jeana, I'm so glad you came back for a sequel.
Oh my! I loved this adventure, so playful and pleasing and observant...I could hear it as a children's book. You should definetely explore that . The pictures made me feel as if I were there and I too felt the craggy shells. And the end ing was so bittersweet and tender. What young man inspired your trek, what life ended but lives on in the ebb and flow of waves, forever. You are wondrous!
Thanks Patricia for your kind comment...I bow to you.
Those shots are great! It sounds like you had a great day, too! Also, it's my kind of day, too!
Another wanderer, huh?
Oh yeah! Especially around bodies of water! The Outer Banks is my favorite place to roam up and down the beach!
Ah...a mystery revealed as to your special connection to the place. Lady Bess, your prose poetry is gorgeous to my eyes and delicious to my imagination...to be in your skin.
Featured on Poet's Weekly Muse!
PS. Thanks a lot for ruining my mascara with your surprise ending!
So lovely, my dear friend...and worth the smudged face.
Oh, Jan, I didn't mean to ruin your mascara...that was not my intent at all. Lol. As for the prose poetry I have no idea where it comes from...I just write what I see and what I feel about what I see. I'm always surprised it is called poetry because I know not form or meter.
Thanks for the feature.
Granny Jan is your fan
How touching and beautiful. Outstanding pics, I feel like I am there.
Thanks Stacey for stopping by.
As for your question on your article...I really don't think a principal would ask her teachers to come into work in the buff.
You got some beautiful shots - I especially like the one of the wildflowr and the water way in the distance. What a great way to end your sweet artistic wording.
Thank you for posting to Any Photo Art
Thanks Denise for your kind words. Yes, I like that shot too.
Lovely water shots.
Thank you for posting to Photo Art Monthly Competitions ~ Water, July Artistic Theme
Bob, this is another wonderful story. What beauty you've found (sigh) and you've made me long for the ocean air. Although your beaches are different than what I usually see, I can tell this is a piece of paradise too. It's been a while since I've seen the sea urchins and seagulls....
Further south in Maine at Ogunquit they have sandy beaches...but up North, Maine has a rocky coastline. Rachel Carson has a whole explanation about the geology of the region and why Maine and Nova Scotia do not really have a coastal plain with sandy beaches, dunes and offshore bars and shoals. If you are truly interested I can give you her explanation.
Bob, I would love to see the explanation. Do you have a link?
Thank you for sharing your jewels from the ocean and your touching poetry. I can understand why your son loved it so and you still do.
Guyana, Marge for stopping by. I bow to you.
I love this, Bob! The stunning photos illustrate so well the prose-poem stanzas - photographic prose-poetry is a whole new genre that you are spearheading. Ten stars from me.
Ummm....so that's what you call it....photographic prose-poetry...a whole new genre, Magi?
Yep, that's what I call it ... and you're pioneering it. Of course, we could dub it poetic photo enchantment or some such.
Loved it, Bob. Your prose is perfect alongside these images. I felt a wistfulness, a pull of some kind and your last line explained it.
It's a beautiful place, but there is no way I'd walk this by myself. I'm scared of the water and I'd be thinking of that water engulfing me the entire time. I can swim, but I never venture out.
I'm not afraid of water but I am afraid of heights and flying....but I push myself, knowing I can't get to where I want to go unless I do.
Your words and photos flow as perfectly as the tide ebbing... slow and gentle, yet powerful. Lovely essay!
Thank you Sherrie for your kind words.
a lovely meditation. not for the first time I'm stuck by how much that coast looks like parts of Scotland.
Though I have been to Ireland, I've never visited Scotland. I think that I must.
as you know, I think, I've spent a good amount of time in Ireland as well. Scotland is as varied and its landscape speaks in different ways, too. I hope you will visit there. I think you would like it.
Thank you , Elizabeth, for sending us this lovely photo essay. We are featuring it today at Home Comfort
It's you who can spell this magic!
Thanks, Buzz.
Such a beautiful article! Lately your "Maine Journal" entries have been pulling me back to the seacoast - hope I'll end up there soon!
When you're there, it must feel as though you and your son are together, walking the stony beaches. Thank you for the salty breeze!
Your words and photos are such a lovely way to document and share your adventures.
I like that shot with the seagull. She looks like she's coming in for a landing!
Enchanting trip to Goose and Gander Island. Beautiful.