It’s a tiny bit like flying our Islander Adventure all over again, reviewing our pix in more detail. Some like this one just leap out to me, making it apparent why I chose to snap a particular view.
I love the interplay of shadows and light on water, sand and various sources of green with all softened by haze and the broken clouds above. Most of the Florida and Georgia coast looks like this area just north of St. Augustine, with an ancient yet forever renewed essence.
Soon we passed the Mayport Naval Base, where centuries of human effort have transformed soft curves into angular concrete asserting into the flow of wind and sand.
Two minutes later we’ve leaped millennia back to the yielding shore, shaped by powerful and inexorable forces in light unseen by human eye.
Soon after that, recent history is reflected in Fort Clinch where armies dwelt in relative peace as wars raged like the storms that have come and gone.
Many places on this coast have tidal marshes like this, and I seem to find endless fascination in shapes and colors that form the texture of this complex life form.
As shadows begin to lengthen we pass a fisherman’s lonely tree-sheltered outpost on a spit of land in this vast sea of grass.
There is to me a slow quiet captured in the boat tied to that dock near the point of a rusty metal roof in the wood. It whispers to me of other days when wind howled, hammering that home and testing the trees while waves chomped on the shore.
After this lazy flight along the edge of the Old South we at last reached the fading glow of Hartwell as sunset played on this small town story at the corner of Carter & Howell.
From the tall spire on an old church at the top this tale passes a proud City Hall, police and fire, to land on the low shape of McDonald’s that much of the town frequents these days as time marches on.
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