Photo Roll of 2013

"Big Red"

   "Son of Big Red" (...a painting in acrylic by K. Annie Powell.)

    "Big Red" himself has most likely passed on by now, some 15 years later.

Old Man (Manatee) Big Red

The mammoth creature began to pass under the pontoon boat after surfacing on our side. Almost shaking, I hurry to put on the rest of my gear as I ready myself for the water. Plunging into the water near the back of the boat in the nick of time, I proceed to make my way forward toward the huge sea creature. Fighting against the current, to my amazement, I am able to come up behind the surely 15 (but feels like 20) foot beast! I slowly take in the huge girth of his massive paddle-like tail, noticing prop marks and some portions that are missing. I have found that this is a way to identify these creatures without mistake; by the (more often than not) man made marks on their tails and on their backs. This always makes me sad, of course, but I am glad to see how they have thrived in spite of the mark man makes.

“He must be about 15 feet long,” I think! I am frightfully careful not to disturb him as I slowly float and make my way further up along his very broad back and belly. His girth is huge! I am amazed to see that I cannot see around him from the top! This is an old creature--an ancient creature. All along his back I see prolific growing seaweed (or long flowing hair-like plants) up to three inches long or more moving to and fro in the water’s current. This carpet of plant life on his (her) back ranges in color from deep red to orange, and even a bit of yellow and bright lime green pop out here and there! His back was simply a wild mosaic of color!

I squeal in delight of discovery and pat his back as if to say “You are so old. I know you are old and I love you. You delight me!” I can sense that this valiant creature that has survived the likes of man and years of travel through currents of water. I squeal to him. He hears me, for the sound travels. As I carefully but deliberately pat his back but a few times, plumes of sand and dirt expand and then rise up and up. He is a great moving magic carpet made of algae and plant life. How old is he (she?) What a dream to come along the path of this remarkable sea creature and to (even) touch such a beast. It was like making the acquaintance of a huge well-aged under water elephant. It was like being in the presence of great wisdom. I was astonished. It becomes quiet in my soul as I marvel in the presence of this great creature.

The memory of this mammoth old man manatee sea creature that we bumped into in the Crystal River (most likely the oldest manatee there, I am assuming) stands out in my mind as the most wildly amazing moment in the cold crystal water that I could have had that day. The encounter still conjures up in my imagination many questions about the creature’s whereabouts, his age (was it a “she?”) and the like, even to this day! I have met many a manatee in the river, big manatees and small, gray colored ones, and even one pale white in color, but not a single one have I met that was even nearly as old and as super huge—as this magnificent creature. It was a dream I will remember for the rest of my life, to meet this particular manatee I have thus named “Big Red” or “Big Red Magic Carpet.”

White Women Don’t Wear Ponytails

    (Photo: Cold Sunrise)

White Women Don’t Wear Ponytails

I want to be astonished

I want to be amazed

I want to stand at the edge of a cliff and yell out through my lungs almost half crazed.

I want to sail across the ocean.

I want to soar up in my balloon.

I want to play a guitar and a flute while I stand tranquil on the back side of the moon.

I want to sail as an eagle, over the mountains so high.

It’s a wonder what a good night’s sleep will do…I feel at least 10 foot high. 

I want to bridge any gaping holes

between countries or peoples or friends

I want to be like the Rock of Gibraltar

a person solid on whom people depend.

I want to make art and parties

and maybe marry the two

upon a yacht that I run ’round the Cape ’cross the Atlantic

and then on over (at last) to you…

Maybe up then to cold Alaskan waters…

and maybe down then and back again

trekking the globe like a traveler light

with a map and a compass and gin

I want to do all things today

happy and chocked full of life

and when I rest I will lay me down

as an Appalachian women-mother-wife.

I want to jet up through the sky

in an aero plane full of my friends

and then drop down through blankets of thermal warmed water

in scuba where I risk the bends

When I awoke this morning

my hair stood straight up near the top part of my head

from a tossin’ and a turnin’ all night in my dreams

as an undercover spy or as a teacher or as a heroine in a country foreign again

White women like me over 50 don’t wear ponytails

piled up high on the top of their heads

but today I’m gonna do my ballet turns in my sweats

with my hair pinned up high just the way I woke up with it in my bed.

[A sort of “Walter Mitty” I suppose I am  

of women throughout time

who dream dreams of misadventure

and seek their fortune, love and pleasure

in fancy made up games along the way

This I offer up-a hearty “salute”

to all of my secret sisters

who like me find themselves seeking

behind the curtain peeking

a glimpse...

of the secret life within.]

Icy Appalachian Tree Pickin'

Hello! :-)

These are recent pics (...just about 2 weeks before Christmas) of our trip to get a Christmas tree from a tree farm on nearby Rich Mountain, NC. It was quite a day! We traveled from 4000 feet to about 4800 feet and found an icy winter wonderland waiting (at the top!) 

Sweet blessings to all my friends!

~louvregirl! 

:-)

And So it Goes

And So it Goes

The grass is thick with the cold viscous drops

slick and gray it stands--

a dewy carpet
Down and down and down, it goes.

The sky in springtime weeps buckets of droplets

high at 4000

down this rocky mountain crevasse

they slip past driveways

throwing themselves over the boulders they crash

land well past the Blowing Rock

down they slide into Lenoir

at last to settle themselves placid 

in the basin called the Yadkin-Pee Dee
Down and down and down, it goes.

The rivers rush and flow

smoothly over strewn out granite chunks

down and down again they are driven

into the green sea beds hot and thick

with the briny creeping crustaceans that scatter at the sound of foot…

at home

in the brackish water

as it stands still

and where the fresh water plays at the game of

osmosis

with the salt
Down and down and down, it goes.

I once saw a whale breach

up high

droplets cascading like rivers off of

his crusty old hull  

and thought

there is the water droplet that I saw last week

as it trickled down the straw-like stem

of my own proud

peach 
front yard rose.


© Karen Powell