In Stonington on a overcast, foggy day, I happened to wander into a used bookstore. I was looking for books by E.B. White but chanced to find a book of poetry, The Kingfisher by Amy Clampitt. Immediately I was entranced by her insight into the Maine seashore...its weather, its tidal flora and fauna, and its effect on the observer and sat down on the old rough pine boards and read all nine poems. My favorite is entitled "Fog" begins with a description of the weather I found in this old fishing village by the sea:
Fog
A vagueness comes over everything,
as though proving color and contour
alike dispensable: the lighthouse
extinct, the islands' spruce-tips
drunk up like milk in the
universal emulsion; houses
reverting into the lost
and forgotten; granite
subsumed, a rumor
in a mumble of ocean.
Wooden Boat School, Center Harbour, Brooklin, Maine
Clamming at Sunrise, Deer Isle
Stonington Harbour, Maine
I love the delicate phrasing and her rich vocabulary in "Beach Glass".
BEACH GLASS
While you walk the water’s edge,
turning over concepts
I can’t envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night’s
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
or touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it’s hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I’m afraid) Phillips’
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with the treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.
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Comments: 84
Wow - I don't know which I like better, the photos or the poetry and that says something since I am a visual person first. I will be out and about today, I think I'll stop by my library to see if they have anything by Amy Clampitt.
Fog is soo cool as long as you don't have to drive in it. I can feel the moisture in the air as I read this - beautiful images, Elizabeth.
A fabulous post to see first thing in the morning:)
I think I really identified with Amy Clampitt. Like me, she was a late bloomer... didn't start publishing her poetry until 1978, when she was in her fifties. She finds her muse in the natural world, as di I.
What a wonderful pairing of pictures and poetry! I feel like I'm there!
Strange, I wasn't going to leave the Jib that morning...fog encased Flye Point but then Papa said he wanted first to go to The Brooklin Boatyard and then the Wooden Boat School. I took my camera along just in case I might see something wonderful...so glad I did.
As are we!
I love the contrast here, between the misty fog pictures and the sharp colours of the beach glass.
I woke up to early morning rain and thunder, again... my flowers will be prostrate with all these moisture while you have my spirits soaring with the beauty you shared first thing this morning, my dear Bob.
Your foggy photos are superbly enchanting.
The poem Beach Glass is wonderful, and I totally love, love, LOVE your glass in the shell composition that you posted with it! The colors of the glass, the shape of the shells, the texture of the table, the lightness of the feather, the added shadow... a perfect picture I could stare at and see stories rising from it, different each time.
I do believe I am in love with Amy Clampitt...she has such a way with words... I see incredible images when I read her poetry and it gives me inspiration as I go out in her world with my camera.
We had a fog like that on Tuesday morning. I didn't get out in it though; too much to do.
Boats and docks in fog are such great subjects, aren't they? Great shots, Bob!
Oh Roy, it was hard choosing the photos for this, I had so many. But I didn't want to overburden the dial-ups.
I wish I had known you were going to Maine.
Love this article.
I was there for 9 days staing at the Flying Jib, summer home of some friends.
How lovely is this? Fog is so mysterious and photos of it so lovely...
The poem is a very special one, and I will be remembering that name.
You can check out the rest of Clampitt's poetry online...just follow the link,
I will, thanks.
wow is right. photos incredible and the poetry, too....really incredible....i love Maine, but it is a bit cold for me to call SUMMER.
I heard yesterday and today it was in the 70's at Flye Point....of course, we didn't have that weather.
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Thanks for the feature, Kathryn. Now it's off to the dentist for me. Earlier I was at the gym working out. It's great being retired...
"Let us go in, the fog is rising"~~Emily Dickinson Thanks Elizabeth for taking us in!
Nice quote from Emily, Jeana.
I visited your photograph first. Now I am here and, OF COURSE, you set your photograph to beautiful prose! Morning fog is a frequent visitor in the summer here on the Pacific coast. Believe it or not, I have come to welcome it. And one of the most beautiful times of a summer day is in the process of the fog lifting.
Always love to see what you'll do next!
Someday I need to return to your coast, Linda...there's so many things I would like to rediscover with my camera.
Same reaction what Rose had and this is amazingly created...
Many thanks, Buzzy.
Beautiful,as always.
A beautiful, misty-moisty ( as my father always described those foggy seaside days) day - I can smell the salt and hear the horns and bells....
WOW, Katrina, are you kidding? I spent many summers on Deer Isle and know well a lot of the locals! Do you live there, or just vacationing!
Sorry, I meant to say Elizabeth :-)
Jane...every year we go to Flye Point in the town of Brooklin...so it's a hop and a skip over the bridge at Sedgewick down through Deer Isle to Stonington.
My icon pic was taken on Sandbeach
Beautiful find and so beautifully showcased with those ethereal shots.
Bob, this is a beautiful essay. Were it not for you so many scenes I'd never see. The fog is one of them. It's so mysterious and in some way quite frightening, and then it is beautiful and consoling. I would like to wake up to that a few mornings in a row, but probably never will. Especially to see the boats and the water line with someone standing out there. That would be magnificent.
Fog is actually calming...one feels like one is in a vaporous world and creation has just begun.
I love her poems Bob. The ones that come to mind are Meadowlark Country and Nothing Stays Put. I so enjoyed reading these again.
The fog bound scenes are expertly captured and waft in and out of the lovely poetry, Bob.
All in all, this has been an enjoyable experience. Ten stars from me.
Do you have fog where you are, Magi?
Sometimes I have a case of "brain fog". Actually, it is a rather common occurence.
Fog is rare ... mists occur but not often. We just have lots of sunshine. But I do occasionally get fog on the brain. LOL
You are lucky. We don't even get mists. Maybe once or twice. We did see this from time to time in New Orleans though, so I have gotten to experience it a touch.
Looks like the two of you should get together with your foggy brains. Lol
It is a good idea, Bob, but would we be able to see each other through the fog. Might not be able and then we'd be misty-eyed. Of course, you could get the leaf blower out and clear away the fog.
I will get my handy-dandy leaf blower on alert should magi come to America and the two of us find our way to your doorstep.
Yes, we will just appear out of the fog ... and Lynn will greet us with a big smile and lots of yummy stuff to eat. LOL
Yes, I will! First thing right off, FRIED OKRA! Then a trip to the restaurant a few miles from here for FRIED PICKLES! Then we better leave the fried foods alone. A little goes a long way. Guess we hit the Vegemite sandwiches and Banana Smoothies at that point.
Maybe we could stop by Elvis's house. Who knows, he might be home.
Fried okra sounds like really good Southern Comfort food...as for the fried p[ickles, if Mag gives it a try, I guess I am game....but PLEASE, no vegemite.
Plenty of Vegemite for me, please, Lynn! And, of course, my beloved banana smoothie. And thank you very much.
I love all the photos...a fantastic photo display!
Thanks Dawn for stopping by.
This is nice, I feel like I am in the area in the pictures! That's a nice shot of that house on stilts by the water.
Thanks, K.D.
You're welcome :)...I'm now thinking that I want to visit Maine someday!
Featured on Photographic Reflections
Excellent!
Thanks for the feature in Photographic Reflections, Jan. I am honored.
Beaut again. I simply love vacationing with you EE.
I have a bud that retired about a month ago. On his last day in the office, he sent me a poem...I should share it on gather someday.
Welcome to the rest of your wonderful life. This is Bob, double-graducated!
Wilka
Yes, with retirement, I seem to be in the process of redefining who I am and what I might do with the rest of my days. Do share that poem from your Bud.
This is so inspiring, beautiful poetry and photos, a real treasure of a piece.
You are too kind, Nana.
Gorgeous artistic photos in this one, elizabeth.
Thank you for posting to Any Photo Art
Lovely water photos.
Thank you for posting to Photo Art Monthly Competitions ~ Water, July's Member Choice Theme
What a coincidence...this month's Choice theme and me going to the waters off Maine. Could not have planned it any better, if I tried.
I very much enjoyed this, the pictures and the poems calming, enriching, interesting...
Thanks Katherine...coming from you, that's a real compliment.
what a great find. both poetic find & pictures. :)
Guyana, Michelle for your kind words.
I'm jotting this poets' name down to see if our library has her book and it's been so many years since I've been to Maine, but I do remember the fog, more like large mist, where we were, Owl's Head, a part of Rockland, and so beautiful when it was lifting. We never found that sea glass though, it's gorgeous!
Off to view the photos now.
Marilyn
I know Owl's Head...it's right past Outward Bound School where I dropped each one of my boys off for their Sailing courses. I have many fine pictures of the Lighthouse and thought it might be so much fun to live in that little lighthouse cottage.
Love Farnsworth Art Musuem...one time I met Jamie Wyeth there.
Absolutely beautiful and amazing, in every respect! :-)
Hugs and blessings - S.
Thanks for stopping by Svetlana...hugs back.
What a great article, photos are fantastic.
Thank you Debra for stopping by.
Wonderful photographs and great essay. I really enjoyed this very much.
Thanks Ester, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I don't usually like fog. It makes me feel claustaphobic. But these photos and the poetry are profoundly beautiful.
Thanks, Marge.
A wonderful post! Thank you for sharing your evocative photos and the Amy Clampitt poems.
Thanks Alison for stopping by.
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