"And heaven and nature sing..."
                ~Watts & Mason, Joy To The World

I left the dock early this morning and floated - or rather, flew - down the Auger Hole on the flush of a -1.3 outgoing tide. I thought I'd see what I could find on the mud flats in Estero Bay, knowing I'd hit the bottom of the lowest valley of the tide chart at that hour. I'm not sure why I didn't connect my arrival with the fact that this was a severely low tide, as winter tides during full moons with strong east winds are in SW Florida, but I didn't, and soon I found myself doing more pushing - or poling - with the paddle than paddling.

I thought the tide would turn at any time, and I could begin paddling again (read: I would no longer be marooned in mud and oysters), so I decided to hang out by my favorite oyster bar and watch the ibis action for awhile.

Now, ibises are fairly docile birds, as waders go. They don't squawk and carry on like snowy egrets or tricolored or blue herons. They pretty much seem to like everybody and are devoted to stabbing the mud for tasty morsels. Their long, orange, decurved beaks are especially suited for such stabbing, as well as the occasional awkward side-to-side sweeping they do to stir up any last bites.

Today, they were being tagged by large flocks of seagulls. I'm not especially fond of seagulls. One tried to steal my backpack (by stealthily dragging it away) one day at the beach. I've never forgiven that bird and blame the entire species to this day. Here, they're often called "rats with wings", which I'm sure, would make Richard Bach cringe. The seagulls I know are thieves and reprobates, and today, they lived up to my accusations.

In this photo, a seagull who had seconds before been hovering, dived-bombed an unsuspecting ibis and stole food right out of its mouth before he even touched down. Clearly, a case of aviary drive-by theft. On Christmas eve, no less!

I stayed there for a good bit, shooting the action and occasionally scolding the seagulls. Before I knew it, I was no longer floating by any measure; I was nearly high and dry in the middle of Estero Bay. I got out to pull the kayak to open water (like walking just about halfway across the bay would be an option) but just ended up post-holing in mud and oyster shells. So I waited a bit more (read: two more CF cards worth of time) until an inch of water began to seep back in here and there, and I poled my way home. It made for a long day in the kayak - and pretty tired arms - but Christmas music was playing through the iPod the whole way and it was a lovely, warm Christmas eve day, even if it was more mud than water. Any day out in the boat gets my vote for a great day.

Joy To The World, for indeed, heaven and nature did sing.

Nikon D2x, Nikkor 80-400 VR @ 400mm, 1/1000, f/8, ISO 160

"Light is my inspiration, my paint and brush. Profoundly significant, it caresses the essential superlative curves and lines. Light I acknowledge as the energy upon which all life on this planet depends".
                ~Ruth Bernhard

For any of you who might have an obscured view or have not noticed, there's a Christmas full moon overhead the next two nights. Tonight, I paddled to Wiggins Pass and back with a new friend who lives in California and was visiting her family here for Christmas. It was a delightful paddle, as it was destined to be. New friends are always gifts and this is the season of such gifts.

Gifting was in the air. It was the most delicious light tonight and as we floated in the Gulf of Mexico, just offshore from the Pass, the sun was sinking in front of us just as the most enormous full moon was rising behing us. Planets were in motion as solar rays danced with lunar forces that pulled at the tide. It was amazing to float there and just be a part of that light, floating on cyan water, surrounded by soft, salty air.

As we paddled back, I noticed a bright planet riding close beneath the moon as it rose. Thanks to Google, I now know it was Mars. Moons, Suns, Mars, Christmas. Could you fit any more magic into one night?

Of course, you can! As we floated past the big mud flat at the Pass four-way intersection, a flock of pelicans waded in the shallows, feeding and flying in and out. This photograph is of a pelican doing a "head throw" or bill throw". It's both a comical and majestic sight, bathed in luminous light.

Good talk, a great paddler to come along and magic light. Gifts before Christmas. My kinda holiday!

Nikon D2x, Nikkor 80-400 VR @ 400mm, 1/500, f/8, ISO 320

"Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind."
                ~Mary Ellen Chase

Maybe it was the Boat Parade a week or so ago, with all those boats lit up like floating pleasure palaces, blaring so-bad-it's-good Christmas music over speakers about to blow, and all those people onboard just yelling and dancing and singing and leaving pure joy and fun in their wakes.

Yep, maybe it was the Boat Parade or the gust of winter that blew into town this week. Either way, holiday spirit has become infectious and I'm infected.

Around here, people decorate their cars, too: big ol' Hummers sportin' bows and wreaths dodging sedans decked out with reindeer antlers and lights. Heck, I guess even Santa deserves a place of honor on the bow of the kayak.

This shot, taken a year ago, was dug out of the photo bin in the blink of an eye. In stolen moments after the day's hectic pace has wound down, I've committed myself to a huge overhaul of my library. I'm 3/4 of the way through a massive culling, organizing, flagging, rating, labeling, keywording, renaming, meta-everythinging using Lightroom. The coolness factor is just beginning to emerge. Christmas photos? In front of me in the blink of an eye. WAY cool!

This labor of love (or agony, depending on the day) has flung more than a few previously undiscovered gems in front of me. Enough to write a new book, which is exactly how & why this project was conceived. It's been fun - almost a treasure hunt - to sift back through all kinds of long-forgotten shoots. I'm watching cameras and skills, interests, desires and visions emerge, then fade away. All things change.

Christmas is in the air. Gifts are all around us, even when we can't see them.

“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
                        -Marcel Proust

A friend visiting from lovely Northern California and I were at Lover's Key today, enjoying our recent stretch of glorious weather. As we talked about light and shells and changing molecules and moments in our lives, I noticed that I had been sitting on the beach for a full hour without a camera in my possession. I hadn't even thought to dig it out of the work case, stuff it into the backpack, and bring it along - and amazingly, it took me that entire hour to notice its absence. It felt good to luxuriate in the warmth of Florida sunshine and a good friendship. My memories of these moments would more than suffice.

As we trudged off the beach in late afternoon light, the sky began to "mackerel-up" and a good sunset sky seemed possible. The previous night, we stood on Barefoot Beach watching the sun hit the horizon and begin to leak orange blood. This effect, known as an Etruscan Vase or Omega Sun (it's shape resembles the Greek Omega sign), is actually an inferior mirage. It is sometimes called "the foot of the sun" and often signals an opportunity to see the elusive green flash. I began to explain this and before I could describe it all (or even pronounce Etruscan properly), there it was! The most amazing green flash I have ever witnessed!

My friend says it's actually more of a green glow. She always imagined that green would "flash" out of the sun as it slipped below the horizon, but instead, it truly was a day glow lime green luminescence. No blinding flash. And surely nothing that lasted beyond the splitting hair of a breath. But it was very cool - cool enough that even this leaky brain will remember for many more years to come. And me without my camera? You bet.

So tonight, in my best atonement effort to the photography gods, I packed up all the gear and we headed off to Bonita Beach, sand still clinging to us from Lover's Key. The sun was just ok tonight. No green flash. Nothing to catch your breath in your throat. I stood there in the familiar pavilion and shot various going's on along the beach - something quite different for me. New eyes, indeed.

Tomorrow, we don reindeer antlers decorated with double-A battery powered LED Christmas lights and blinking red noses as we paddle out into Hickory Bay to watch the start of the 22nd Annual Bonita Springs Boat Parade. Camera? Nah, maybe not.  Everybody knows reindeer can't shoot manual.

Nikon D2x, Nikkor 80-400 VR @ 120mm, 1/60, f/14, ISO 320