Life of an Osprey: From Nest to Sky
Read about this osprey’s journey, from a hatchling to a fledgling soaring over Cayuga Lake.
Category: Fiction
Glimpses of the Moon
Join me in exploring the depths of “Hamlet,” where the phrase “revisits thus the glimpses of the moon” unveils a world where the supernatural meets the mysterious moonlight. Let’s unravel this imagery together, reflecting on life’s transient beauty, seeking understanding, and contemplating the cycles of change under the moon’s spell.
Life and Death
Among the 7,000 year old remains found in Windover Bog was the skeleton of a boy crippled from spina bifida who had to be carried around and treated for the 16 years of his life.
I was born into a world that danced around me, a world I could only witness but never fully join. My legs, unlike those of the other children in our tribe, refused to carry me. I spent my days close to our hut, watching the life of our village unfold from my corner, shaded by the leafy arms of the great trees.
My mother was my bridge to the world. She carried me to the edge of the waters, where I would watch my friends play, their laughter a melody I cherished. She showed me the way the water held stories, the way the reeds whispered in the wind. She taught me to weave, my fingers nimble and quick, making up for my still legs.
As I grew, I found my place among my people. I became a keeper of stories, a weaver of tales, just as I wove reeds into baskets. My voice became my movement, my words a dance.
Then, illness found me. It crept into our hut, a shadow that no fire could dispel. My mother’s eyes, always so full of warmth, grew clouded with fear. She fought for me, her hands constantly working – crushing herbs, whispering prayers.
I saw her struggle; saw the toll it took. I wanted to ease her burden, tell her it would be alright, but my voice had begun to fail me. All I could do was squeeze her hand, a silent message of love and gratitude.
As my breaths grew shallower, I watched her. She was my world, her face the last thing I saw as I drifted away, her lullabies carrying me to a place of peace.
I am his mother, heartbroken and weary. My son, my joy, lies motionless, his chest barely rising. I had always carried him, but now, there’s a journey I cannot make with him.
I remember his laughter, bright and clear, despite his bound body. His spirit had wings, even if his legs did not. He was the light of our tribe, a storyteller, a dreamer.
When he leaves me, my heart shatters. The tribe gathers, offering comfort, but the void he leaves is too vast. We prepare him for his final journey, wrapping his body, laying beside him his favorite weaving tools, the small toys he cherished.
We take him to the bog, our sacred place. Gently, we lay him in the water, his final cradle. The waters close over him, holding him in an eternal embrace.
Years pass, but his memory remains, alive in the stories I tell by the fire.
Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved http://www.MichaelStephenWills.com
Bridging the Lethe
notes from November 2231 AD
Hook
Ancient legends speak of the River Lethe, crossed by departing souls. The waters of the Lethe wash away memory, allowing for spiritual rebirth, reincarnation, a return to the world in new form.
This memory implant represents a bridge over the Lethe.
For those chosen to cross over to the new land in return for
their treasure, lives and selves.
Description
This virtual monoculture glade from the long time of forests,
a place of happy gatherings, of families, plentiful food and water.
These sycamores grew over centuries, through thousands of days, wider than 10 people,
white with age as the outer covering, called bark, falls away.
forked, trunks
climbing to the sky.
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Venus at dawn
Planet Thoughts
Since 1500 B.C. until today…..
The planet we call Venus has ancient associations with fertility goddesses. The link has persisted at least from the 1600 century B.C. inscribed on Sumerian cuneiform tablets. Three thousand years later the Italian artist Botticelli created in tempura paint on canvas the image of Venus rising from the sea, as the planet Venus does today.
Venus Rising
Here is Venus rising from the sea at dawn January 2022, at its brightest and most beautiful. Some mistake this new light in the east for airplane lights; the bright disk of Venus is 25 times brighter than Sirius, enough to cast shadows at night. As Venus proceeds in its orbit, the planet alternately sets after the sun and rises before it, seemingly appearing new each time.
This February I caught a newly risen Venus in this IPhone 7 video, reflected in the waves. It seemed to be a flashing headlight on the beach, the Venus reflection came and went with the passing waves. Venus is the upper, the reflection is beneath. Use the lower right control for the full view.
Looking from his window June 1889, Vincent VanGogh included Venus in his “Starry Night” painting, seen to the right of the Cypress tree.
Here is a closer view of Venus last January, the planet disk is apparent, unlike even the closest stars, Venus is seen as a whole object. Click on image for a full view.
Venus and Mars
Venus and Mars shared 2022’s pre-dawn winter sky. Click on the first image for a full-size view. Mars is seen above the palm tree stump, on the right. In this photograph, from early February, Venus and Mar apparently moved closer. The closeness is an illusion, the planets are millions of miles apart, on either side of Earth’s orbit. Click on the photograph for a full-size view, Mars can just be made out to the right and above Venus.
This crop clearly shows the brightness of Venus compared to Mars.
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Growth and Beauty
a exploration of logarithmic spirals and symmetry
Growth
An early thought of mine, as a child, was to wonder, “How large does a person grow?” If growth was perpetual, there was no end to how large I will become; yet, tested against observed reality, “Why was it the case this was unlikely?” Years later, when recalling this, I understood my intuition touched upon the logarithmic spiral and mollusk shell.
Sea Oat stalk, photographed above, after it dries slowly in the sun and wind, curls into a logarithmic spiral. One two dimensional spiral may be compared to another by measuring the rate and direction of opening, the increase in distance between the part closer to the source and the outer swirl. The growth of all shells follow a logarithmic spiral in three dimensions where the progression from a staring plane, as well as the direction, up or down from the plane, is an element.
Sea shells give evidence to my question of “how large can one grow.” The size of each of the millions encountered on a beach is an example of a life ended. Each of record of the length and character of the organism. For example, a close inspection of the bottom shell of the above photograph, a tellin of the family Tellinidae, reveals the spiral is growing toward the surface of the sand. Imagine wrapping your hand around the outer edge of the tellin with your thumb pointed down.
Each of the four shells of the above photograph had a mate, were one of a pair. Types of shells share characteristic pair symmetries. For example, a pair of tellins display a type of asymmetry called chirality, also called “handed-ness” after the same property of your right and left hands. One shell half (from the same individual) is the mirror image of the other, each unbalanced as the growth spirals toward opposite directions.
When I started beachcombing, examining collected shells I did not have a pair from the same individual and incorrectly concluded direction of growth was unique to an individual. The ribbing of the above two shells illustrate three concepts: the logarithmic spiral growth pattern, chirality, as well as how I came to that wrong conclusion: that two individuals can grow in different directions. It was a logical hop to understand how, to make two shells hinged at the source of the growth spiral, each individual requires two halves, each a mirror image of the other. That every member of the species demonstrated the same asymmetry, each half grows in the opposite direction.
The above photograph shows attached matching halves. The attachment point was a surprise: the apparent source point is not attached to the ligament joining the halves? I have yet to understand this. Do you?
Beauty
The association of beauty with scallop shells bridges thousands of years. For example, a fresco of the Roman goddess Venus, born from the ocean riding a shell, was unearthed from Pompeii. The living organism is not part of the story, just the shell. Why the scallop? My answer is, “Each half is completely, in itself, symmetrical.”
The top three shells of the first photograph are scallops. The first and last, broken by the waves, are missing parts. The middle scallop, small and off-white, is complete. Place an imaginary line down the center and each side is identical. Applying the real world (i.e., physics) to myth, a scallop shell allows the goddess to move forward in a straight line. Sailing an asymmetrical shell, she moves in an eternal circle.
An object with symmetry is visually complete unto itself, self-contained; functionality aside, one scallop does not required a partner. The paired shells are interesting in they do not match, one is deeper, it encloses more volume. The deeper side rests under the surface, allowing the top halve to present a lower profile the better to hide from predators.
The scallop echoes the beauty of Venus. Symmetry enhances human features (earch “Venus (mythology)” for images of her face through the ages), though it does not define beauty. An overly symmetrical face seems strange. I will close with an extreme example, the other day I came upon this beach crab wandering around in the daylight. Symmetry does NOT enhance the alien eyestalks, menacing claws, a pallid, tough exterior. Safe travels, little one.
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 