| Wednesday, March 9, 2022 | | Sky's On Fire... | Hey, Babe, the sky’s on fire…(James Taylor)
I hope James Taylor doesn’t mind that I borrowed a lyric of his—with attribution of course—for this blog. You’ll see why in a bit.
You haven’t seen or heard or read anything much from me in the past several weeks because honestly, I thought I had nothing to say. Beginning my grief journey in the darkest, coldest part of our year here in the northern hemisphere has given me lots of time to sit by my fireplace and think, remember, journal, cry, talk with friends and family far away. I am so used, after 25 years, to think in first-person-plural terms; thinking “I/my” instead of “We/our” has been a challenge. In my morning journal time recently, I felt as if God said, Pete was a big guy; he took up a lot of space in your psyche as well as in your days. Of course you feel emptier! No amount of busywork or activity or sleep or conversation has filled that space. Instead, I was led to create a new kind of to-do list, based around five questions.
What nourishes you?
What sustains you?
What pours into you?
What enlarges you?
What inspires you?
Thinking about these five questions eventually led me to bundle up—more than once in the dark—and head outside where my head, and heart, are nourished most. Another resource I have found helpful is The Grief Recovery Handbook, by John W. James and Russell Friedman, suggested by a friend who led grief recovery groups pre-Covid. For any of you reading this and also navigating the path of great loss, I highly recommend it.
Much as I did when I drove out to the NC mountains for New Years, I wanted a little change of scenery. I got my first wish for that when about 7” of snow fell in late January in Corolla. I did not venture out at first light—I wanted to be sure the Colington bridges were safe to traverse—but there was still a lot of snow on the ground when I finally drove north. A long goal was to photograph my favorite tree along the Duck boardwalk in snow and I finally got my wish.
Then, I arranged to go over to the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Wildlife Refuge on the mainland with a fellow photographer, Dan Beauvais, who knows his way around the unmarked roads there. We left in the dark to make sunrise and I was delighted to photograph hundreds of tundra swan in early morning light in a small flooded area that looks like a little pond compared to the larger lake. Way off in the distance we saw lines of snow geese flying shortly after dawn but we stayed with the swan. I had seen others’ photographs of otters in the canals there and hoped for a chance to photograph them, and we eventually found and followed a group of four or five. So cute! So fast! The next afternoon, I told Ray Matthews that Pungo still had swan present, and we drove over together for sunset and moonrise. The sound of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of swan cooing and calling to one another as the light waxed and waned over the two days I was there definitely provided sensory experience to answer my new life-list questions and I came home with memories and memory cards full of new, fresh images to share.
I’ve gone over to Alligator River Refuge several times too, sometimes in afternoon, sometimes for sunrise. I seem to be having lots of raptor experiences this winter, and wound up with a wonderful chance to photograph a Bald Eagle taking flight on a gray afternoon. Last week I rode with Beverly Meekins, a wildlife photographer who has spent much more time in the refuge over the past few years than I have. Beverly and I got there in time for me to see my first bear of 2022, a big Papa Bear headed from the now-barren farm fields across a canal and into the woods shortly after dawn. We also saw a lone otter, plenty of turtles sunning on logs, and we watched the last group of tundra swan (all but one) fly off, headed back to breeding grounds in the Arctic. Once they left, I could more easily spot the Sandhill Crane that has been hanging out with that group all winter. I wonder when it, too, will take off, and why the one swan remained behind when all the others flew north.
I always have my eyes on the skies, which is less rewarding with a uniform grey blanket overhead. A couple of weeks ago conditions looked as if a sunset were possible but only if I were willing to drive north—so I drove up to the boardwalk at the Waterfront Shops, where our gallery is, and bore witness to a magnificent skyfire show at dusk. This past week, clear skies and almost no wind coincided with the new moon, so I once again set my alarm for what felt like the middle of the night – 3:30 a.m. in that case – and drove to Bodie Light for the rising of the Milky Way, which we begin to see now just above the horizon. In winter months it stays below the horizon and by summer the core will be almost straight up and down. There was enough humidity in the air to fan out rays of light from Bodie’s Fresnel lens, which I could see as my eyes adjusted to the dark, juxtaposed against the Milky Way core behind the lighthouse. A ten-second exposure revealed even more detail than my eyes could pick up and once more I was nourished, poured into, inspired, and yes, sustained.
The fourth question on my list, what enlarges you, prompts a complex answer, one facet of which this blog, and other avenues of sharing, help to answer. I feel nourished, poured into, inspired and sustained as I receive, whether from nature, from God, or from people on this planet I love. I feel enlarged as I share what I receive with others. It is always my hope and my prayer that these offerings provide you, in some measure at least, what I’ve been given, and perhaps help answer those same five questions for you. Here they are again, so you have them planted in your own heart, to seek your own answers:
What nourishes you?
What sustains you?
What pours into you?
What enlarges you?
What inspires you?
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click for larger image | I've pictured this tree with snow in my mind for years, but never had the chance for the picture! |
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click for larger image | The Swan were flying to a nearby field; after the sun set, groups began to fly back in the dark. |
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click for larger image | Then a beautiful full moon rose. This one line of Swan was at the perfect height from where I stood. What a gift. |
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click for larger image | Our offseason sunsets (and sunrises) are the most vibrant. This one shows the Blue Point dock in Duck. |
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click for larger image | Eagles represent vision, clarity, and thus direction for me. Having this one take off in my direction was a treat. |
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posted by eturek at 6:22 PM |
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