October 19, 2009
Ghost in the woods
![[IMAGE] foggy woods](/blog/blogpix/fog2.jpg)
The view from my studio door…
![[IMAGE] fog](/blog/blogpix/fog1.jpg)
…click to listen:
…about the musicStrangely beautiful.
After spending the better part of the week in Philadelphia to give a workshop, I was happy as always to return to the woods. The weather was still warm enough, but a front was moving in the afternoon I puddle-jumped back to the island, and I was reminded why just about this time of year is when I start to favor the ferries when possible. The clouds were far beneath us and the sky was beautiful, yet filled with forceful, intermittent, invisible chop that attacked from seemingly nowhere.
I awakened the next morning to the familiar sound of the ferry’s insistent horn as it chugged blindly through the San Juan Channel. The fog that rolled in with the rain was thick and completely obscured the rising sun. When I lived on my sailboat in the Santa Barbara harbor, our slip was right next to the end of the breakwater and might as well have been inside of the fog horn. Fog horns, while somewhat romantic from afar, are more than somewhat annoying when they continuously bleat their warning only a few yards from one’s ears. I much prefer the romance of the vessels that glide on the water and sing, slightly off key, to each other.
Glenn Buttkus said,
October 19, 2009 @ 5:35 am
I have often wondered how it feels to ride on those tree topper puddle jumpers in rough weather. I guess that’s when your mettle is tested. It is still fairly warm in the mornings, no real frosts yet, even this late into the year. We did pull out our tomato plants a couple weeks ago. Thought about you last week. We got a new student in who lives up in Friday Harbor. His dog guide passes away a few months ago, and he is here for training. We do not train with the dogs, but he needs to relearn a lot of
long white cane skills. He has a tiny bit of vision left, has RP, and he talks about SJ Island as if it were Shangrila. Listening to one minute of PLASMA this morning did
spike up the fog off American Lake; nearly obscured my view of the monitor as I
typed this morning, damp and cold and smelling of kelp and gulls and shells and barnacles. The Shapiro poem of the month follows;
Ghost on the Water
I awakened the next morning
to the familiar sound of the ferry’s
insistent horn as it chugged blindly
through the San Juan Channel.
The fog that rolled in with the rain
was thick and completely obscured
the rising sun. When I lived
on my sailboat in the Santa Barbara harbor,
our slip was right next to the end
of the breakwater and might as well
have been inside of the fog horn.
Fog horns, while somewhat romantic
from afar, are more than somewhat annoying
when they continuously bleat
their warning only a few yards
from one’s ears. I much prefer
the romance of the vessels that glide
on the water and sing, slightly off key,
to each other.
Alex Shapiro
Alex Shapiro said,
October 19, 2009 @ 9:02 pm
How you always manage to eke poetry from my meager words, Glenn, I’ll never know, but you certainly do it beautifully. Thanks!
Robert said,
October 19, 2009 @ 10:00 pm
I can’t help but also see these wonderful photos as black and white–darkened with added grain. Such moody elements there. October, fog rolling in off the Sea, completely inspiring.
elizabeth said,
October 20, 2009 @ 12:28 am
your world is magical Alex, the way you see things through the camera, in sound, words and even colors on a web page. And what a beautiful place you live! Thanks for inspiration as always.
Alex Shapiro said,
October 20, 2009 @ 1:02 am
Thanks, dear Elizabeth! You and I appreciate nature so much; and to think that we met at a funky coffee cafe in the very middle of gritty Hollywood!
Glenn Buttkus said,
October 22, 2009 @ 5:22 am
Over the last couple of years that I have had the pleasure of being a kelphisto, I have found it very easy to release the poetics within your prose. Looking back over my blog site where I have posted many of them, like dozens actually, you have established quite a legacy. It tickles me that some folks will come to your site, from the link on my site, thinking of your as a poet in addition to all your other talents. There has been a lot written about the alignment and relationship between good prose and free verse poetry; they are like kissing cousins. There is even a form of poetry called the “prose poem”. But hey, you are more than welcome.
Glenn
Lane Savant said,
October 22, 2009 @ 9:45 am
The beauty is in your words, Alex.