Cocoa Beach Dawn

In January 2024, I captured the tranquil beauty of Cocoa Beach at dawn, embracing the fleeting moments of peace and natural wonders.

The first blush of morning caresses the horizon, the palette of colors unfurling across the sky like a softly whispered promise of the day ahead. The soft pinks and blues deepen, brushing the clouds with strokes of lavender and orange, as the sun peeks just above the watery edge of the world. Today, I find myself strolling along Cocoa Beach, capturing the tender moments of dawn breaking over this tranquil Florida beachscape in early January 2024.

Each step I take along the sandy shores brings a new perspective, a new detail, revealed in the emerging light. To my right, a lone beach house sits nestled behind a veil of sea oats and palmettos, the sky behind it a canvas of warming hues. The house seems to slumber still, its windows reflecting the first golden rays of the sun. This dwelling, isolated and serene, hints at the countless summers of laughter and salty air, and the quiet winters of introspective solitude.

As the morning progresses, the sun asserts itself, climbing higher and burning off the last vestiges of night. I point my camera towards the ocean, capturing the waves as they roll in with rhythmic persistence. The sea is a creature of profound mystery in these early hours, its surface a moving mirror that catches the fire of the sunrise and dances with light. Each wave is a note in an aquatic symphony, played just for those who are awake to hear it.

Turning my gaze down, I focus on the smaller, often overlooked inhabitants of the beach. A single flower, a stubborn and resilient dune sunflower, stands boldly above the sands. It’s an unexpected sight—this splash of vibrant yellow against the muted earth tones of the sandy beach. The flower turns its face towards the sun, basking in the glow, thriving in its own patch of the world. It’s a poignant reminder of the tenacity of life, of nature’s relentless pursuit of existence against the odds.

The beauty of Cocoa Beach at dawn is not just in its sweeping vistas or the dramatic play of light and shadow. It’s also in these small, intimate encounters: the texture of the sand, the whisper of the grass, the solitary bloom. Each element is a brushstroke in a larger picture, a note in a grander melody. As I walk, my feet leave temporary impressions on the wet sand, soon to be erased by the incoming tide. It feels symbolic, this transient mark-making, reflective of the fleeting nature of life and the enduring beauty of the world around us.

Cocoa Beach this morning is a place of peace and contemplation. As I capture these moments with my camera, I am also capturing them in my heart, storing them as a balm for busier, noisier days. The photographs will speak of quiet and calm, of the soft hush of dawn, and the gentle awakening of the earth. They will tell of a morning when the world seemed to pause, just for a moment, to revel in the simplicity and beauty of another beginning.

As the sun climbs higher, its light becomes too harsh for the soft magic of dawn photography. I pack up my camera, my heart full of the morning’s calm. The beach is waking up now, the first joggers and dog walkers appearing, their morning routines intersecting with the tail end of my photographic journey. I leave Cocoa Beach carrying the quiet joy of the morning, a joy found in the dance of light on water, in the solitude of a beach house, and in the vibrant defiance of a sunflower. Dawn here is not just a time, it’s an experience—a delicate, powerful reminder of the world’s wonders, witnessed at the edge of the day.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills

Light, Hope

The post describes a photographic expedition featuring a sunflower field and maples at Frear Memorial Park, and explores the notable Frear family’s history in Ithaca, New York.

Descending Hayts Road toward Cayuga Lake in the course of a photographic scouting expedition I spotted a mature linear maple tree planting forming the western edge of Frear Memorial Park. This day Pam and I headed out at day’s end, stopping here to capture the turning maples.

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A sunflower field was a hidden surprise. The 24 mm “wide angle” lens was mounted on a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV dslr on a light carbon fiber tripod.

The Frear family has a notable presence in Ithaca, New York’s history. One significant member was William Frear, a well-known businessman who lived his entire life in Ithaca. He ran a candy store and a photograph gallery, and was involved in the county fair. William passed away in 1915 at his daughter’s home on East Buffalo Street in Ithaca​​.

In terms of the Frear family’s broader historical context, the name was found in the USA, the UK, Canada, and Scotland between 1840 and 1920, with the most Frear families in the USA recorded in 1880. Remarkably, in 1840, about 67% of all recorded Frear families in the USA were living in New York, indicating a significant concentration of the family in the state​​.

The family tree of William Frear includes his parents Baltus Frear (1793–1881) and Lavina Westerveldt Frear (1800–1868), his spouse Ann Amelia Hopkins Frear (1838–1906), and his children Baltus W Frear (1865–1885), Donna Frear Luker (1868–1929), T Wilbur Frear (1874–1874), and Edward Hughson Frear (1876–1910)​​.

This snapshot of the Frear family in Ithaca provides a glimpse into their lives and contributions to the local community during the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Additionally, there is a Frear Park in Troy, New York. Donated by the family of William H. Frear in June, 1917, Wright Lake and Bradley Lake, located in the park were named for members of the Frear Family. The Frear Family was originally from France where the name was as Frere. The Frere’s moved to England to escape prosecutions, where the spelling of the name was changed to Frear. The family was founded in the United States by Joseph Frear, Grandfather of William H. Frear of Troy, New York.

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Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved http://www.MichaelStephenWills.com