The 12th of the 3rd

I just made a bunch of additions to the "Feathers" gallery including the image below.

http://skip-willits.artistwebsites.com/

The 9th of the 3rd

ABSECON LIGHTHOUSE

One of the lighthouses that I have found most difficult to photograph is the one in Atlantic City, New Jersey.  No rocky shores or sandy points with ideal waves crashing at this one.  Inner city urban landscape where they try to do their best to offer a decent view of this piece of history.

The shoals of Absecon and Brigantine had to be marked by a light of some sort in the early 1800’s when Atlantic City was but a small ocean side village.  The Lighthouse was first authorized in 1837 but not built and lit until 1857.  Built by the active Lt. George G. Meade of civil war fame, the tower was erected on a stone foundation, which rested on a wooden platform.  The structure rose 150 feet and was fitted with a first order Fresnel lens as was befitting a coast line light house.

Shipwrecks had been many along that coast on the aforementioned shoals, but after it’s construction the incidents of wrecks in the first months became nil.  In 1872 the tower was white with a red band around the middle but in the latter part of that century, the light was painted orange with a black middle band.  Until 1998 tower was white and red. It has been since painted a light yellow with a black band.  The lighthouse was decommissioned in 1932 and was turned over to the state.  It is now the centerpiece of a town park.

I wrote the above some years ago as a part of the image package I was selling and it gives a little insight into the history of the place.  They still have the Fresnel lens in the tower room which can be seen in this image of the top of the tower.

The seventh of the third

"Yes sir.....How may I help you?"

Spring weather and a young man's thoughts turn to fishing.  Or finding a second job mowing lawns or packaging bags at the local super market.  I always think of the fishing first, which is probably why I am trying to sell the photos I take and not doing physical labor. 

I guess in this time and age, I should be thinking more about the work than the fishing.  As the economy continues to limp along, second and third jobs seem more the norm than the exception. 

Although I will say that some of those people working in the service areas of the economy still take their customers for granted.  Two restaurants this weekend (and not high end at that) were absolute disasters for me because of a stupid and arrogant wait persons who did not appreciate their chance to work, nor the customers who were "Expected" to leave a tip.  But maybe I should stick with fishing and not be a food critic.   Honestly, these people didn't have a clue!  Perhaps they are part of almost 50% of the people in this country that depend upon the govt. for a living and just work for fun or to piss off old people like me.

But fishing........Ahhhhh!

No more admirable enterprise according to Sir Isaac Walton.  I, while educating some sun fish at Lake Murray, had the opportunity to entice one onto a "Woolly Bugger" fly using my $600 plus fly fishing outfit.  The rod and reel certainly up to the task of the tiny creature.

Remember to click or double click on the photos for better resolution. 

Whilst "Playing" (a little fishing lingo there) a small sunfish I was struck by a long torpedo shape image that shot out of the shadows and grabbed my poor sunny amidships.

 

The fight was on!   My fly line was quickly disappearing from the reel and the backing (back up line used for emergencies only behind the real fly line) was showing to be insufficient as well.  This was far better than arguing with an incompetent waiter.  The fish was close to three feet long and while not in the same category of fight as the acrobatic salmon or tarpon, it certainly could have taken two hundred yards of line and left me there looking the fool. (Again)

 

For those of you that really care this was a Gar Fish.  In the above case, rounding up some shad for dinner.  Wikepedia says this...

In American English the name gar (or garpike) is strictly applied to members of the Lepisosteidae, a family including seven living species of fish in two genera that inhabit fresh, brackish, and occasionally marine, waters of eastern North America, Central America, and the Caribbean islands.

Fortunately I practice catch and release fishing.  That is, I don't kill em and grill em like my idol Ted Nugent. 

In this case it was a good thing because that fish is 98% bone and two percent fish scales. 

To make a long story short, the poor sunfish was pretty mauled by the 8 trillion teeth the gar has in it's head and did make a meal for the big fish after it dropped off my line.  That's call the "Long Distance Release or LDR", which I practice as well.  In other words he got off.  I saved my fishing equipment, hand an adrenalin rush, and the gar had dinner.  The sunfish had the satisfaction of confirming he was part of the food chain.  Actually not a bad experience all around.  Unless of course your the sunfish.

  If the gar had been a tuna, I might have considered keeping it.  But one cannot often catch wild tuna too much west of Myrtle Beach.

THE FIFTH OF THE THIRD

RED SHOULDERS

Another of the things I miss about Maryland and the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake is a simple little bird of which the marshes are full.  The red wing blackbird is a marsh bird primarily and flits from plant to plant with raucous cries.  Showing off his plumage.

The red and yellow on the shoulders is very distinctive and one has to wonder what the good Lord was thinking when it came to camouflage.  But that's the way it is.  I suspect the coloration has to do more with the mating ritual than hiding amongst the reeds.

THE FOURTH OF THE THIRD

SPRING CLEAN-UP

Somewhere off to the left, in the mid distance, behind that point, hidden by the pine tree to the left is "Hole in the Wall".  Actually, only a small channel between two islands but a neat name for a "Place".

There appears to be some open water on the big lake and that means the real work of the winter starts.  Spring is inevitable but always seems to take it's good time to arrive and the clean-up of winter debris along the shore and the repair of the road is something that just cannot wait till the ice is completely gone.  For you see, just when the ice leaves, the fish are on top filling their lean bodies with the spring run of smelt.  That is the occurrence that takes precedence and work must be out of the way well before that event.

The memories of landlocked salmon past, just triggers the "let's get ready" mechanism in my head.

Or a football sized Rainbow to surprise us all.

I mean........This is the important stuff!

And one must be prepared.

But Alas!  There is!

Pot holes created by winter run-off and normal erosion wait to be filled and the road graded.  The big woods is not yet alive and even the fiddle heads have not put in an appearance. 

They say these things taste like asparagus in the early spring, but it takes a man more hungry than I to test that theory.

Beach clean-up may be premature because the "Ice Out" spring winds have not cluttered the beaches yet.  But it is a chore where the mind can drift to more pleasant chores.

Those early spring winds can be a game changer for not only the shore line, but the fish behavior.  I know that the winds certainly change the plans of the fishermen on the lake.

It's early but the first warm day signals my blood machinery that it's time to crank up and the anticipation is just too much.  I suppose that I could seed some of the carrots and summer onions that I bought, using large plastic pots that can be moved as the sun moves.  May not be too early for those seeds to start germinating.  And if it is, well the seeds are cheap enough and I can start all over again in a month, or just add to that which I plant  this day. 

If nothing else, I have the opportunity to take a nice long walk through nature and smile.  Small chores for the most part, but big blessings.  A chance to briefly take the mind away from the day and thank the good Lord for a life time of memories.

The second of the third

We had a wonderful thunderstorm come through about five this morning.  Not any wind and only enough thunder to get my village idiot barking and running around the house briefly chasing the noise.  I don't know whether that's a real sentence and don't care. 

An hour's more sleep with the rain pounding on the pergola roof and the promise of a good steaming cup of Pikes Place Roast running through my head.

Finally, both idiots needed to go outside and I had to get out of a decent dream which I could not remember if I even wanted to.  Another bad sentence.  Live with it. 

I opened the door and it sound like an aviary outside.  Evidently another flock of robins were working their way north and were very happy that the rain had ended.  And so another day begins here in Shangra La, south.

The first of the third

MY SWAMP !!!!