Time seems to stand still at the stream bed.

The top of the old-growth Longleaf pine seems to disappear into a blue sky canopy. It hasn’t been disturbed by man’s whim or nature’s storms. Here in the sheltered stream bed equidistant in the half-mile stretch of gravel road between our home and the gate, it feels like time stands still. Tiny black fish dart from the natural spring through the culvert under the road and reappear on the other side, where the stream meanders and eventually joins with a fecund swamp. I’m thinking of dragging a bench or a chair into the dark heart of the dry gully adjacent to the stream bed so I can sit there, still as a mouse, and listen to owls, flying squirrels, woodpeckers and the quick splash of deer through the spring.

Sentinel Live Oak

This ancient live oak guards and shelters the front gate to our woods. It is massive. Prom couples slip in to take their dressed-up pictures in front of this romantic tree. It has survived hurricanes and fire. I never tire of looking at it and drawing strength from its calm presence.

Half Shell with Stripes

I took this picture at the Marina Oyster Barn in Pensacola on December 23, 2003, and am sticking it in here out of chronological order to break up all that dead wood, and to remind myself how much I have missed eating raw oysters. "Pristine" is necessary when it comes to on-the-half-shell oysters; hard to be sure of their provenance these days.

Alternative Housing

These huge ant hils are interesting. This one is in the middle of a winter food plot, which is why the grass (wheat, oats & rye) is so green. I've read that the large dome-like shape acts like a solar collector in winter to provide warmth for the residents.