Dawn's First Light

I took this photo in the early hours of a cool spring morning in the sleepy little harbor town of Grand Marais in Michigan's upper peninsula. I woke up to the purple darkness that paints the sky right before dawn, and stood by the harbor wrapped up in a light shawl, shivering slightly amidst the cold morning breeze, waiting for the break of dawn. Somewhere in the distant waters, I hear the mournful call of a lonely loon announce the arrival of morning. I watch mesmerized as dawn's first golden light pierces through the purple darkness of the skies, slowly turning night into day. A brilliant golden shimmer sweeps through the calm still waters of Lake Superior spreading one ripple at a time, as I stand entranced, watching the beauty of that early magic hour unfold in front of me.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Spring is here!

Tiny buds open up slowly,
As the first butterfly of the season floats out of its cocoon
The skies resonate with the sounds of vagrant birds returning home
The fragrance of cherry blossoms sits lightly in the air
The harsh spell of a long, cold winter is suddenly broken
By the warm beams of sunshine that swallow up the blue sky
Slowly, the world awakens out of its deep slumber
Afresh. Anew.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Ivory

Her deep blue eyes stare into my own, as she locks into them against my own will. She holds my gaze into hers as her piercing eyes penetrate deep into the crevices of my soul, searching and investigating the mystery of my being. The secrets of my past and present unravel involuntarily in the presence of her strong gaze and the truth of who I am stands before her, unguarded and vulnerable amidst her powerful aura.

And then just as quickly as she had cast it, she breaks the spell. She blinks and walks away from me, head held high, swooshing her tail majestically, bored by how ordinary and mundane I am amidst her extraordinary presence. She stretches lazily, taking in the warmth of the sunshine on a cool spring day, frolicking playfully before settling down for a nap on the cool ground.

Ivory. The white bengal tiger.

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These photos were taken at the Potawatomi zoo, an AZA (American Zoo and Aquarium Association) accreditated zoo in South Bend, Indiana.

While the idea of a wild animal in captivity always saddens me, I do realize the important role that accredited zoos play as learning centers in educating and spreading awareness of wildlife conservation. Animals held captive in zoos are often valuable resources to conservation biologists studying the habitat requirement, animal behavior or other aspects of the ecology of an endangered species aimed at the restoration or reintroduction of the population in the wild.

By putting up photos of wild animals clicked at my local zoo, I am not necessarily advocating zoos. While the Potawatomi zoo is an active participant of the species survival plan coordinated by the AZA and is involved in many conservation and education efforts, not all zoos are equally conservation oriented. I feel a conflicted sympathy for the animal held in captivity in an accredited zoo because while it as an individual has lost its right to freedom, a greater benefit to the conservation of its species is often gained out of its captivity. By putting up these photos, I do not necessarily want to get into the argument of "good zoos" versus "bad zoos", I simply want to convey my love and fascination for these wild animals to anyone else that is captivated by their beauty.

~vagabond~ © 2009

The Lighthouse

This little lighthouse stands brave on the banks of Lake Michigan. It is located in the sleepy beachside town of St.Joseph in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. Several years ago, I lived in an apartment just a short distance away from its shore. The lighthouse and I go a long way back. I have walked along the pier leading up to it countless times over the years. I would sit at the very end of the pier on summer evenings, with my legs dangling off the edge, gazing out into the watery horizon for as far ahead as I could see. Some days blissful and content, waving at the boats coming in. Some days sad and contemplative, lost in my own thoughts. I have seen the sun dip into the calm blue waters ahead of me painting both the waters and the sky a brilliant red.

In summer, the pier gets quite busy with locals fishing, high school kids diving off its hot concrete slab into the cool summer water, out of town visitors posing to take photos by the lighthouse. But in winter, it stands deserted, weathering the winter storms all alone. And that's my favorite time of all to visit it.

I no longer live as close by as I'd like to, but I still sometimes drive up to say hello. I visited the lighthouse last week and took the photos above. With all the snow storms we’ve been through this winter season, it’s hard to even tell where the “sandy” beach ends and where the frozen lake begins. And yet, seeing my brave little lighthouse standing strong amidst the frozen icy waves of countless winter storms fills me with endless hope and inspiration.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Purple skies

It was love that brought you to me that cold December morning as I sat out on the porch, gazing out into the purple skies ahead, sleepy eyes watching the lazy dawn unfurl infront of me. It was love that sat you next to me, that stretched the long rays of the early morning sun and filled the empty space between us and brought you closer to me. It was love that filled the silence of that morning and said everything that needed to be said even as we sat side by side not needing to say anything at all because the biggest of little words had already been spoken - I love you.

It is love that sits you next to me right now, watching the sun setting into the sky ahead of us. Is it just me, or does the sky still have the same purple hue it did back then? I still love you.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Bare

Bare. Uncovered. Having shed all inhibitions.
Exposed in all fragility. Yet strong and defiant.

~vagabond~ © 2009

Wintering geese

Snowflakes continue to fall silently to the ground. I look out into the distance peering through the misty white curtain around me. Bare tree branches dangle in the cold wind, silhoutted by a hazy mist. My footsteps crunch into the soft snow and are drowned into the white blanket around me barely before they form. The cold winter wind stings my cheeks as I walk on, my warm breath fogging up the cold air forming little clouds. The temperature dips down, swaying way below freezing. And then I spot them. All lined up neatly in rows of hundreds, sitting there motionlessly, huddled in the cold. Waiting and watching as the storm passes over head. Wild canada geese braving winter along the river's edge. They sit along the last ice free spots by the river bank, their backs speckled with snow. Old residents that have lived here all year long intermingled with visitors from up north. Honking and calling out loudly to one another, marking the slow passage of time through yet another wintering season.

~vagabond~ © 2009

To hear the calling of the Canada geese, click here

(Sound Byte courtesy of National Park Services)