edges

Yesterday I spent most of the day walking the beach and dunes. Meandering through the sand hills at the lakeside started me thinking about edges. How edges define space and separate reality. How edges can offer opportunities for growth. How they keep people out. How they keep things in. They define borders and populations, they define differences.  

On this side of the shore the dunes ramble into the water, on the other side the city builds its muscle. 

On this side of the shore the dunes ramble into the water, on the other side the city builds its muscle. 

beachcombing

Edges create tension and stop the blurring of lines. They offer entry into newness and sharpen the soft. They show the worn and messy. They collect the extraneous. They repel the unnecessary. They expose what might not be seen otherwise.

Dunes restoration fence

mapping a miracle

Yesterday I took three walks at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore. One to the dunes, one through a marsh and one on the beach. I recommend them all to those who question the value of preserving national parks.

I met a scientist from India on this path. He was amazed by the treasure of it.

I met a scientist from India on this path. He was amazed by the treasure of it.

Textures and color create tempting avenues for exploration. How might I stitch this pattern?

Textures and color create tempting avenues for exploration. How might I stitch this pattern?

The sounds in this marshland were primordial:gurgling gallumps, screeching squeals, twittering clicks and clacks. The sounds of new life.

The sounds in this marshland were primordial:gurgling gallumps, screeching squeals, twittering clicks and clacks. The sounds of new life.

This park is a skinny shard of what it could have been. Having just finished a book called Sacred Sands, the Struggle for Community at the Indiana Dunes by J. Ronald Engel, I am amazed that there is anything left at all. Between the push for steel mills and power stations, deep water ports and railroads this skinny little strip was mangled, disfigured and mined for its riches. Even the district politicians in 1966 were against having a national lakeshore designation citing the economic benefits that the industry brought to the state. Hanging by threads to the remaining ecosystems the park managers focus on biodiversity and preserving what remains.

The park is a patchwork of geometry striated with roads.

I applaud the efforts of the band of devoted citizens, both in the past and present who see the value of preserving this wonderland. 

bearing witness

It is a gray day here with promise of sun in the afternoon. Gray days allow for long walks on the beach without the worry of sunstroke. 

Walking the beach at the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore brings you face to face with industry. These smokestacks merging with gray clouds is a striking image in a natural preserve.

The folks at the National Lakeshore consider themselves stewards of the disparate ecosystems in their care. Biodiversity, restoration, replenishment and reexamining is the focus. Botanists, biologists, geologists and myriad other folk focus their attention on what has been saved, not what has been taken. These mills, smokestacks and furnaces bear witness to the history of the area when industry was king and economic stimulus was primary. 

Meanwhile over on a more secluded part of the beach I found at least a dozen monarch butterflies. At first I thought they were just landing. Then I realized they were dead. I couldn't help but wonder what they were doing there. Was this a last ditch effort to cross the water? Do they come here to party? Is it a migration zone? I need to do more research. Their colorful bodies being cradled by the rocks were stunning. 

And then I came upon this rock. A clear and present witness to the flight of the butterflies. Did he see it all happen? Does he have any thoughts about it? What exactly happened to that nose of his?

This piece began with one of his brethren. Rocks with holes in them always look like sentient beings to me. As you can see there are many others who bear witness to the surf, sand, butterflies and random humanoids with collection baskets. 

floating with the current

I floated my fabric in Lake Michigan today. Let the waves take it for a ride. The sparkly reflections were mesmerizing. I almost lost it to the lake.

The water actually looked blue when the fabric went under. 

Love the patterns that the light cast onto the fabric under water. 

Pockets full of rocks

Rocks at the beach speak of long journeys. As I gaze at the sunset I can’t help sorting and sifting through them. Organizing by color, by shape, by smoothness. I am particularly drawn to those shaped like hearts, or perfect circles, or tubes. 

But best of all are the ones with holes in them. What force of nature pierced these solid cores and left its mark?