Acadia 3

images from Acadia National Park, Maine











sea and stone
treeline shadow and cliff edge
haunted shallows at low tide

sea and stone
tremble of wind in seagrass
kelp fingers touch and part

sea and stone
map rain into sky
along broken hunchback boulders

sea and stone
blackrock intrusion into pale sand
where gulls roost silent and cold

Acadia 2: Color

images from Acadia National Park, Maine



cracked shell of granite
calving off the mountain's shoulder:
eggs of earth



In early spring, in the cold bleak rain, in the white mist from the ocean, what few spots of color appear are enhanced. Reds and greens all the more vivid and precious for being still rare.



It's tempting to make only B&W photographs, in this place, in this light, but the colors when they appear are angelic, and cannot be overlooked. They are visitations of the summer to come, prescient foretastes of life's return.



twilight at midday
the infinite mists hide and reveal
cold mountain slopes



green man face
emerging from the lichen
climbing tree bole



bloodred buds
of new leaves stretch out
spring flags

Acadia

images from Acadia National Park, Maine



A smaller National Park, in terms of acreage, but hugely diverse. Many different kinds of landforms, tiny climates, small ecosystems, different soils. One could hike some of the trails across the hills and meet several different kinds of land in an afternoon. Complex geology. Cadillac Mountain a giant exposed batholith of pink granite. This used to be a mountain range here: the glaciers polished these hills smooth, exposing the granite, scraping off the top layers and rough edges. When the ice retreated and sea level rose, the coastal mountains partially submerged, becoming islands, gradually drifting off to sea.



On this day I was in a quiet, rainy-day introspective mood. The previous day had been emotionally exhausting. Maybe the quiet days after a storm should be called process recovery. I've experienced this state many times before, after a major piece of psychological or spiritual work leading to a breakthrough. Resting. Integrating.



As I drove up the coastal highway in Maine today, Highway 1, which runs from the top of Maine to the tip of Key West in Florida, I listened to rainy day mood music. I sang along with a John Dowland CD. I know many of the words to his songs—the Elizabethan blues—and I was feeling good about my own voice. Having sung again in male chorus for over a year now, I've regained some technique and skill. I liked the sound of my own voice today: good breath control, good tone. It was remarkable to feel good about my performance, rather than inadequate. Maybe it's a mark of returning self-confidence.

When I get back home, I want to record soon. To set up the studio and do some musical work. Maybe even record some Dowland. "Flow, My Tears" is a favorite song; one I know well; one I've sung for auditions.



Yesterday's emotional breaking point, which broke me, which I broke over, was another reminder to not overplan, to not have too many expectations, to go with the flow, to take things as they are. I've thought about that all day, driving. I've made some peace with my inner weather, which today is directly reflected by the outer weather.



wrapped in bands of kelp and stone
rising from the rainwet sea
after this land, after this water
another land made of water

The rain worsened later in the day. Nonetheless, I was able to get some good video and photography, by using the truck shell as a rain cover, and setting up the cameras from under its protection.



place where sea sky and mountain merge
place where mist shields stone
place where the one fades into the other



from Cadillac Mountain
the long lines of the hills dissolve
into the ocean





all gray all day all sea sky and land
the darkened trees at dusk
reveal bright lightning forks of aspen

Maine, At Last

I spent my first night in Maine, after the long day's drive across Vermont and New Hampshire, including my stop at Nelson, at a wonderful hotel in Kennebunk. It's called The Lodge at Kennebunk, and I recommend it highly. I arrived after dark, and the night clerk was very welcoming and helpful. The hotel room was exceptional, one of the best I've ever had, on my many travels. How often do you get polished wood floors, beautiful dark furniture against the plain white walls, with an entire alcove set aside for a writing desk, fridge and microwave? The bathroom was light and sunny. There were windows on both sides of the room, the one in back overlooking a large lawn with picnic benches and playground equipment for traveling kids, all under huge trees. I left my windows open for the breeze and the night air scented by flowering trees and shrubs. In the morning, they had a terrific breakfast room available. There was classical music playing, and the concierge offered to turn on the TV for my pleasure, but I assured her that the music was by far preferable. Television before noon is an assault on the senses.



After the long day's drive, it was a solace to take a long hot shower, then lay out my journal and some of the books I'd already acquired during the trip, books of art and poetry, and read and write into the night. I was too tired to last long, but it felt like a writer's retreat, for that brief time. A very good end to a long day.

I also downloaded the day's catch of photographs, and made some preliminary choices among them.



I drove up the interstate for awhile before turning towards the Maine shoreline. I was anxious to reach the Atlantic Ocean, but I also wanted to make time in the morning. The weather became cloudy and rainy, as the day went on, but when I finally reached the shore, I was in too much of a mood to work on photographs for it to matter. The weather is the weather, and you capture whatever you can.



By day's end, I had spent most of the afternoon in Acadia National Park, and had captured some good seaside and rain-in-trees footage. I feel I made several good B&W photographs. Although I did shoot in color, too, the weather was primarily monochrome, and the land and sea followed suit. I did have to stop and wipe off the camera lenses a few times.



I was in an introspective, rainy-day mood. I often get those moods after a day of high psychological or spiritual drama, or process work, or whatever you want to call it. I need a day to integrate, to rest. I spent some time singing along with John Dowland songs while driving.



One of the previous day's lessons had been a hard reminder to not overplan a day, to take my time when traveling, to let go of expectations, to go more into the flow. I hit an emotional wall again, after leaving Nelson, when it seemed like I was driving in circles, making no progress across the face of the land, under a featureless gray sky where one completely looses one's sense of direction and duration. So what if on this trip I'm running a few days later from my original expectations? It will even out at the end, and even if it doesn't, I'll still get home in time for what I need to do.



Maine enchants. It's as beautiful as advertised, even under gloomy weather. I found the people everywhere I stopped to be very friendly, quite willing to converse with a strange visitor. There's a neighborliness I like. They'll leave you alone if you don't want to chat, but they'll also talk if you want to, and quite openly.