Live in Atlantic Beach: A Newborn Sea Turtle Finds Its Way to Sea

Atlantic Beachlife was live on the scene last night when a nest of loggerhead sea turtles hatched.  Arriving with our crew as the final group of turtles were at the shoreline,  we followed the last straggler of this sibling group of more than one hundred find its way to the water’s edge.  It was waddling gamely but seemingly confused, while the trained volunteers of the Beaches Sea Turtle Patrol assisted. They gently turned and guided it several times, until the tiny marine reptile finally found the water’s edge and was carried away by an outgoing wave.

The birth of any baby brings out the best in people, and sea turtles are no exception.  Tonight, families were seen hugging, tearful with joy to be part of this rather rare and fleeting moment (a nest can hatch and baby turtles dispersed within 10 or 15 minutes), and snapping photos with camera phones.  Everyone on site was careful to observe the no-flash photography rule, and no one even tried to touch a baby but the gloved specialists who were on hand for the hatching. Unfortunately not everyone who lives at the coastline understands (or cares?) that dimming or dousing their ocean-facing window lights is de rigueur along our beaches during sea turtle season, which runs from May 1 to October 31.  This year, there appears to be an abundance of nests in our area, and we observed that several were wrapped in the rear with blackout sheeting.  We have observed in the past that many of the oceanfront homes and condos have lights blazing inside which can confuse the little ones, who have a long and treacherous journey to maturity.

Only one per one thousand live births will actually live to maturity. At the ripe young age of fifty years old, a surviving female, will return to lay her eggs at the site of her birth.  That means that of the hundreds of sea turtles born during this season, probably just one will be back, nearly two generations from now, to perpetuate the species.  Perhaps you will be on this beach with your (great?)granchildren, and will pass on the lessons of caring for these endangered creatures.

Enjoy the video shot by our reporter, Jeannie Greenwald.

Eastern Market Summer Saturday

 

 

 

 

Detroit, Michigan’s Eastern Market has to be one of the country’s older farmer’s markets.  It’s in downtown Detroit and Saturdays is its largest draw.  There are restaurant supply companies and little specialty markets in the district, but Saturdays is when it comes to life, and has been the only day of the week I’ve ever gone there.  Now that I live in Florida, it’s been ages since I’ve been to Eastern Market.  I’ve been reading this guy’s blog with fascination for his life in the city with his wife and kids (they live in a small historic district called Lafayette Park which is a pleasant area surrounded by decrepit Detroit (here’s an article about the architecture in the city in the Lafayette Park area); his elegant writing, his adventures and creative projects with his kid, and his trips to Eastern Market.  He and his wife have made a rich and satisfying life within the city that my Michigan family think I’m crazy to want to visit.  Hey, I used to work with kids in that city, back in the mid-90s. I went into the neighborhoods, into their homes, and saw dwellings so foreign to me that I had to feign nonchalance.  Surely I stuck out like a white girl in a Pontiac Sunbird, but never did I feel threatened despite the fact of the locale,  and the people I worked with who were (almost) always nice to me.  I also spent four years in a different Detroit career, downtown, playing with the big boys, although I was callow and naive at that time in my life. Later, I drove to Wayne State University for my Master’s degree, and loved it.  So I’ve been on these roads and walked the city streets, and I met my husband in a Detroit bar.  I’m not exactly a Detroit virgin.  I was born in Detroit, and grew up in a suburb that bordered Detroit. While I did not  grow up in the city with the city experience, quite different from my own, neither was I immune to it.

So this blogger used to post weekly pictures of his fresh food haul from these Saturday trips to Eastern Market,  and I was amazed by how much locally grown produce he got for such a small amount of money.  Since I’m in Florida, I’m stuck, pretty much, at Publix, but during my past few summer trips to Detroit (well, a close western suburb) during the annual Michigan trip with the family, I’ve longed to go into the city and have a look around.  Eastern Market was definitely on my to-go list.  But my desires were met by family resistance (“Oh, forget about that. Why would you want to do that?”  ”Oooh, you don’t want to go there,” and so I acquiesced, and sat on the couch, instead.  Until this year.  (Well, I still sat on the couch, but I went into the city, finally.)  One Saturday I said, “I’m going to Eastern Market,” and took my foodie daughter and showed her the place.  You should have seen her face when confronted with all that fresh, colorful produce.  Here are some pictures from that day.  On another day, I went into the city again…but I didn’t tell anyone until afterwards.  Oooh, so daring!  But here are some pictures from the best farmer’s market around, with a great Saturday vibe.

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

               

 

 

 

 

Three Endings

Do three endings make a beginning?

One.

Two.

Three?  Yes, three.

Do you dwell on the ending or use it as fuel for the beginning?  No; we make choices.  It’s the future, and that’s that.

Adrift

At home in the water, this is good water.*  There’s joy in good water, in full immersion, diving down and surfacing.  With no time pressure and sunshine it’s  tactile and sensual and cleansing all at once.  With no time pressure you can emerge and air dry and get hot again. In you go, back to the water which beckons.

It sounds so cliche, but this is how I experience the joy of good water, on a leisurely summer day. It’s a simple and exhilarating pleasure.

Lately, I’m adrift. I have lost my voice here. I haven’t been happy to write; I haven’t quit but I’m on pause.  I suppose the voice will come back but it feels like that voice is changing.  Writing through it will make it happen.

*Bouvier Bay off Anchor Bay off Lake St. Clair, in Michigan.

Summer 2011

http://s44.sitemeter.com/js/counter.js?site=s44AShahUA-8123456-1