Copyright 2008 Lydia Hinshaw
SUMMER HAVEN, FL -- This time of year Florida is at once familiar and new.
We were away for five months and our footprints have been erased from our stomping grounds. Some things are not as we left them.
I looked forward to resuming my early-morning walks to the fishing pier, and I've been disappointed. The egrets and herons I loved to photograph aren't around. I'm guessing this is because of high water. The rocks they used to pose on are now submerged. The shallows where they used to feed are too deep for wading.
Sooner or later, the water level will go down and my friends will come back. In the meantime, Prince Charming and I headed north up the beach Sunday in search of wildlife.
We found plenty of the usual feathered suspects. But the most interesting thing we saw was a geographical change we hadn't heard about.
One of the hurricanes that visited while we were in California carved the inlet in the picture above. Not long before we left last spring, we had gone for a walk down the beach that is marked now by open water with a line of surf beyond.
The house on the left in the top photo is now precariously on the end of a spit of land assaulted constantly by waves. We drove around to the end of the road where we could see the rocks that have been pushed into place to try to stablize the shoreline and save the house.
Meanwhile, the new inlet has created a larger playing field for folks like this kayaker.
This rearrangement of the barrier island has happened at least once before in the 36 years I've lived in Florida and will surely happen again.
Mother Nature has plans that aren't always convenient to the rest of us.
We were away for five months and our footprints have been erased from our stomping grounds. Some things are not as we left them.
I looked forward to resuming my early-morning walks to the fishing pier, and I've been disappointed. The egrets and herons I loved to photograph aren't around. I'm guessing this is because of high water. The rocks they used to pose on are now submerged. The shallows where they used to feed are too deep for wading.
Sooner or later, the water level will go down and my friends will come back. In the meantime, Prince Charming and I headed north up the beach Sunday in search of wildlife.
We found plenty of the usual feathered suspects. But the most interesting thing we saw was a geographical change we hadn't heard about.
One of the hurricanes that visited while we were in California carved the inlet in the picture above. Not long before we left last spring, we had gone for a walk down the beach that is marked now by open water with a line of surf beyond.
The house on the left in the top photo is now precariously on the end of a spit of land assaulted constantly by waves. We drove around to the end of the road where we could see the rocks that have been pushed into place to try to stablize the shoreline and save the house.
Meanwhile, the new inlet has created a larger playing field for folks like this kayaker.
This rearrangement of the barrier island has happened at least once before in the 36 years I've lived in Florida and will surely happen again.
Mother Nature has plans that aren't always convenient to the rest of us.

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