Here, on the playground, the morning stretches wide— a sky so blue it swallows you whole. And you, a small figure, climbing the red pillar, moving hand over hand up the ropes that knot and twist like veins, like lifelines.
I watch from below, the ground a familiar place where footsteps fall and scatter— but you, you are ascending, breath held in the still air. Nothing is simple in this moment, yet everything is—
the cord that bends beneath you, the thrill in your chest, the boots pressed firm against braided paths.
If I could speak, if words were clear as the day, I’d tell you how these small victories— climbing high, standing above— are etched into the bones of memory. Someday, you’ll look back and wonder at the web of ropes, the pillar red against autumn’s burn, and the vastness that carried you up, into light, into air,
where fear gave way to joy, and the sky leaned close, just to watch you rise.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
The sun has barely risen over the horizon, casting a golden hue on the edges of the swaying palm trees. I’ve found my favorite spot on Cocoa Beach, where the sand meets the sea oats, and the Atlantic waves crash endlessly. It’s a windy winter’s morning, with the gusts howling, pulling at my shirt, tugging at the American flag standing tall amidst the dunes.
The early light of dawn illuminates clouds with a pink hue on a windy winter’s morning. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. The Space Coast.
The flag is massive, its stars and stripes fluttering with conviction against the backdrop of an endless blue sky. Its red, white, and blue are a reminder of the freedom it represents. A symbol of history woven into every thread. In the wind, its fabric dances gracefully, in sync with the whispering leaves and the sea’s rhythm.
This particular flag has been around for years, steadfast on this patch of the Florida coast. The pole, firm and weathered, stands as a sentinel. It’s not just a symbol of patriotism but a beacon for those who wander these shores, a guiding point that has witnessed countless sunrises and sunsets, serving as a reminder of the ideals this country strives for.
Near the end of my video a squad of pelicans glides through, slicing the sky in a perfect formation. They using the wind to their advantage, and their synchronized flight is mesmerizing. Their journey is a testament to the beauty of nature’s choreography, moving with grace and purpose, guided by the same winds that ripple through the flag and carry them along the coast.
The wind is fierce today, blowing sand like fine snow across the beach. It stings my face as I watch the waves roar, driven by the same winds that make the flag soar. These are the south winds, warm and constant, flowing over the Atlantic. They pick up speed across the open waters before reaching the coast, shaping the dunes, bending the palm fronds, and reminding me of the unyielding force of nature.
The south wind is not just a whim of nature; it’s shaped by the currents that flow from the equator, by the rotation of the Earth, and by the heated lands further south. It’s nature’s breath, shifting sands and altering landscapes. This breeze carries with it a hint of salt, a whisper of the tropical climates from which it comes, and a false promise of more warmth on this winter morning.
There’s a certain serenity in being here, watching the elements play. The sea is restless, much like my thoughts. I can’t help but contemplate the forces that have shaped this land, from the explorers who first set foot here to the astronauts who launched themselves to the moon from just a few miles away. This place is steeped in history, and the flag embodies that.
As I look towards the flag again, its fabric shimmering under the sun’s rays, I think about all that it has seen. The gentle lapping of the waves reminds me of the constant change that’s part of life. The flag, though, is a steadfast sentinel, standing tall through it all, enduring the same winds and elements that buffeted it years ago. It speaks of resilience and hope, of standing tall no matter what comes your way.
I pull out my camera, capturing the flag as it flutters in the wind, its stripes rippling like waves on the sea. In a moment, I take a video, recording not just the flag but the beach around it, the sand swirling around my feet, creating transient patterns that the wind will soon erase. The video captures the essence of this place, where the wind and waves weave their own stories.
This morning, like so many before, the wind brings with it a sense of purpose. It whispers tales of the past and hints at the future, pushing me to continue exploring, to keep seeking, and to always remember what this place represents. The American flag, in its majestic flight, is more than fabric; it’s a reminder of the journey and the ideals that guide us, just like this wind pushing along the coast, unrelenting and full of promise.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Waves built from onshore wind, fast, steady overnight, through the day from early morning until sunset. Pam and I adapted with a revisit to the Sands Space History Museum, Cape Canaveral just outside the Air Force Station. Click this link for a previous posting, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse,” first of a series. This post header is a vintage gumball machine from the lobby.
By sunset the waves were roaring. Viewing from the safe distance of our condo porch we spied two surfers incredibly among the waves, taking rides. Waiting and attempting a ride. You can see for yourselves the two tiny dots of humanity, appearing and hidden among the waves. I spot them first and Pam does not believe me, I do not blame her. It is beyond my comprehension people are out there. I cannot recommend the quality of the video from my IPhone, our comments are humorous.
It is difficult, Pam is astounded when they come into view.
He rises briefly only to wipe out in this brief video.
Brown Pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis) fly as linear flocks of a few individuals, at altitude over the shore, and low over the surf line as seen here. Taken January 27, 2020 with the IPhone 8, there is a the insertion of the modern world as a cruise ship comes into view. The ship departs Cape Canaveral Cruise port for parts unknown.
Pelicans, when skimming the waves solo, fly even closer, and do wipe-out when a wingtip hits the water. This bird successfully negotiates a path through the surf.
A week after Rough Surf pounded Cocoa Beach a north wind was up, I set out on a long beach walk. Our plan was to meet at Cheri Down Park, Pam driving up with lunch.
After I emerged from under the Cocoa Beach pier, I spotted this sailboarder. At first it was the handheld sail that caught my attention, enough to capture this video. Watching the recording, I see his board is equipped with a hydrofoil. He is about a foot above the water.
A multi-day hatch of small fry around the time of a new moon triggered this Black Skimmers (scientific name: Rynchops niger) feeding behavior surf off Cocoa Beach, Brevard County on Florida’s Atlantic Coast.
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 