Riverbend and the Loxahachee River

Inquires about my summer weather field work inevitably circles to,

"How can you stand the heat?"

South Florida is a subtropical climate after all. Today, the weather is humid, hot, and steamy. One of those days I am hibernating in my studio writing and arranging a still-life escaping from that oppressive sauna like heat. Although just a few days ago, I canoed the Loxahachee River with Chris Devenport, a fellow naturalist. The morning was much like today, but once I found myself engrossed by the towering Oaks, telling of early residents, Cypress, towering like skyscrapers, and Pond Apple trees, ancient beings. I am always amazed how early Floridians survived without ant spray (or any other bug repellant) or air conditioning. Sometimes my mental displacement is reassuring to my cognitive conscious side that asks if my pursuit as a professional photographer is prudent. That fleeting thought abandons me the further we canoed into the hammock. I felt like a pioneer exploring the unknown, until the stripped tail of a baby alligator caught my eye.

I found myself remembering that artistry takes a lifetime of mastery. In times of not so great creativity, I must be as the little alligator: still, purposeful, and intuitive. When my mind and spirit fuse in this creative zone, the heat and humidity are just gravy.

Labor Day Swamp Walk

Just as many others, I joined walkers in Ochopee to explore the Big Cypress in Clyde Butcher's backyard. Only 1% of the world visits this part of Florida. I have never seen such ancient beings towering with history and words that only few can hear. It was a typical rainy afternoon with passing clouds and thunder rumbling in the background. The walk was short and went by too quickly. I am glad I didn't bring my camera or I would have not moved after the first 15 minutes into the swamp. The water was cold with no waders. I wondered how after seeing so much of Florida's native beauty I could not be caught surprised. I was so very wrong.

Okay, I did bring a disposable point and shoot that is out for processing. I feel strange talking about film, but that is a discussion for another day. I encourage everyone to visit Clyde's gallery and walk the walk.

How do you know when you are on the right path?

Hmmm. Everyone, not only artists, have this question pop up questioning personal direction in life. I am constantly checking with myself and asking the Universe, " Are you sure I should be on this path heading somewhere still unknown?" Small signs of reassurance seem to assure my conscious mind. When I am knee deep in mucky water, oblivious to the bugs, spiders, and humidity, confidence in my path as a nature photographer are solid. I am a rock. What I already know and have yet to discover are immaterial; my half remodeled house is a distant space I forgot about; I am mindfully living, being, and aware of not only the pristine perfection of nature, but also of myself. This must be a version of enlightenment. This also must be what draws us photographers to paths requiring a new vision of sight.

Today, I am seeing only what was once negative space as positive. Challenging my eyes and the perception in my mind. A mini-workout for my brain. Do not forget that artists are always working and creating even if they appear to be still.

With that I will leave you with a quote from Clyde Butcher's biography by Tom Shroder and John Barry, Seeing the Light:

"In the Everglades there is no chaos or imperfection or mess. The entire compass flows together. Everything fits."