Taughannock Falls, a majestic 215-foot waterfall, showcases nature’s beauty and power, intertwining geological history with vibrant ecosystems in New York.
Introduction Nestled in the heart of the Finger Lakes region of New York, Taughannock Falls stands as a testament to the delicate balance of power and beauty in nature. This iconic waterfall plunges 215 feet—one of the tallest single-drop waterfalls east of the Rocky Mountains—into a gorge whose story is written in stone. The park surrounding this natural wonder offers a symphony of sights, from towering cliffs to lush greenery, inviting visitors to explore its ancient secrets and vibrant life.
View of taughannock Falls from the South Rim Trail. Taughannock Falls New York State Park, Trumansburg, Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region
A Story Written in Stone The rocks of Taughannock Falls tell a story that stretches back 380 million years to the Devonian Period, a time when the region was submerged beneath a shallow inland sea. Layer upon layer of shale, sandstone, and limestone formed as sediment settled to the ocean floor, preserving the fossils of marine life that once thrived here. These rocks have endured the passage of eons, but the gorge itself is a far more recent creation.
Limestone Steps on the South Rim Trail descend to the gorge floor.
It was the retreat of the mighty Laurentide Ice Sheet, approximately 10,000 years ago, that set the stage for Taughannock’s grandeur. As glaciers melted, torrents of water carved the U-shaped valleys that now cradle the Finger Lakes. Taughannock Creek, a tributary of Cayuga Lake, began its work, etching its path through ancient rock, sculpting the gorge we see today. In just 10,000 years—a fleeting moment in geological time—the relentless force of water carved its way 3/4 of a mile upstream, creating the awe-inspiring chasm and waterfall that continue to evolve even now.
Taughannock Creek carved this landscape over thousands of years.
The Gorge’s Living Tapestry Beyond its geological wonders, Taughannock Falls State Park bursts with life. Along the North and South Rim Trails, Eastern Hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) stand tall, their evergreen branches weaving shadows that dance across stone stairways and forest floors. These silent sentinels are habitats for myriad creatures and protectors of the delicate ecosystem.
Wildflowers were planted by park staff at the Falls Overlook. The bright yellow of Black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) and the vibrant purple of Coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) attract bees and butterflies, their nectar fueling the intricate web of life that thrives here. Along the trail, on the forest floor, mosses and ferns cling to rocks, softening the edges of the gorge with their verdant touch.
Cone FlowersCone Flowers gone to seedFrom a walk around Taughannock Falls State Park “Rim Trails” October 22nd, 2024. Trumansburg, Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region, New York State.
The Fall’s Eternal Dance At the heart of the park is the waterfall itself, its roar both a hymn and a whisper of time’s passage. The view from the North Rim Trail reveals the waterfall framed by steep cliffs, their striations like pages in a book written by water, wind, and time. The plunge pool below, shimmering in sunlight, seems almost sacred—a place where the forces of nature meet in harmony.
Viewed from the North Rim Trail on a summer morning. Taughannock Falls New York State Park, Trumansburg, Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region
Even as we marvel at its beauty, the falls are a reminder of the earth’s constant transformation. Each drop of water that cascades down the cliff face carries away tiny fragments of rock, continuing the slow, deliberate work of reshaping the land. What we witness today is but one moment in an ongoing process—a fleeting glimpse of a masterpiece in progress.
A Place of Wonder To stand at the edge of Taughannock Falls is to feel both small and connected. The cliffs, formed over hundreds of millions of years, whisper of ancient seas and forgotten worlds. The gorge, carved in the blink of an eye by geological standards, speaks to the power of water and time. And the vibrant life that fills the park reminds us of nature’s resilience and beauty.
As the sun filters through the trees, illuminating the mist that rises from the falls, it’s easy to believe that this place holds magic. Perhaps it’s in the way the water sparkles like diamonds in the sunlight or the way the breeze carries the scent of pine and earth. Or maybe it’s in the knowledge that here, in this park, we are witnesses to a story billions of years in the making.
Conclusion Taughannock Falls State Park is a place of wonder where geology, ecology, and history converge. It invites us to reflect on the immense forces that shape our world and to cherish the fleeting beauty of each moment. Whether you come to marvel at the towering waterfall, walk among the hemlocks, or simply stand in awe of the gorge, Taughannock Falls leaves an indelible mark on the heart—a reminder of nature’s power, resilience, and enduring grace.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
The Auburn St. Patrick’s Day Parade showcased vibrant traditions through bagpipers, dancers, and community spirit, celebrating Irish heritage and unity in a poignant, lively procession.
The streets of Auburn, New York, were alive with the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. A crisp breeze carried the sound of bagpipes through the neighborhood, stirring both nostalgia and excitement. I stood on the curb, camera in hand, ready to capture the essence of what is proudly proclaimed as “New York’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade.”
Leading the procession was a lone bagpiper, his presence commanding attention. Clad in a traditional kilt, he marched with precision, his fingers skillfully pressing the chanter, producing the unmistakable droning melody. The contrast of his black uniform against the white socks and flashes of green was striking. His gaze was fixed forward, unwavering, as he walked past modest houses adorned with shamrocks and green decorations. A woman standing nearby lifted her phone to capture the moment, mirroring my own effort to preserve the memory.
Just behind him, a group of proud marchers advanced, their sashes boldly displaying the colors of the Irish flag. Some leaned on walking sticks, a testament to age and tradition converging on this special day. They carried a banner that read: “New York’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade – Auburn – Ancient Order of Hibernians.” The crowd lining the sidewalks clapped and cheered as the parade, though brief, filled the street with a warmth that defied the cool March air.
The energy of the parade was contagious. A group of Irish dancers followed, their synchronized steps punctuated by the rhythmic clap of their hard shoes on pavement. The young girls, dressed in intricately designed Celtic-inspired outfits, smiled through the motions, their faces reflecting both discipline and joy. Alongside them, women in matching athletic gear clapped along, encouraging the younger dancers while swaying to the lively music.
Green was everywhere—on scarves, hats, jackets, and even the leggings of a young girl who skipped along with excitement. Onlookers wore festive attire, their laughter and conversations blending into the celebratory atmosphere. Irish pride radiated from the participants and the community that gathered to watch, reinforcing the deep cultural roots that have anchored this parade in tradition.
For all its brevity, the Auburn St. Patrick’s Day Parade carried a weight of significance. It was not about grand floats or large crowds; it was about honoring heritage, embracing camaraderie, and keeping alive a tradition that linked the past with the present. As the final marchers passed and the echoes of the bagpipes faded, I took a final look through my camera lens. I had captured moments of pride, joy, and unity—a testament to the enduring legacy of the Irish spirit in this small but vibrant celebration.
For best experience view video in YouTube
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Beneath the burdened boughs, where birches bend, And rivers rush through rocks that time has torn, The shadowed cliffs, their crowns with pine trees pinned, Stand sentinel, proud guardians of the morn.
Through chasms carved by countless, ceaseless years, The water whispers tales of days gone by; Its misty breath, a shroud for winter’s tears, A silver veil beneath the leaden sky.
Each trickling stream sings sonnets to the stone, And echoes dance through chambers cold and vast; Where silence dwells, a realm of moss and bone, As sunlight lingers, fleeting, yet steadfast.
The waterfall, a weeping wall of light, Cascades its crystal chords with thund’rous grace; An argent arc, a marvel for the sight, That draws all souls into its soft embrace.
The river curls, through curving cliffs confined, Its molten silver sculpts the winter’s skin; While gnarled roots from ancient oaks entwined Grip granite walls where life dares to begin.
Upon the path, where earth and echoes meet, The fragile frost dissolves with fleeting flame; Beneath bare limbs, our footsteps firm and sweet, Trace tales that timeless, towering stones proclaim.
The afternoon, aglow with golden hue, Finds stillness stitched in shadows soft and deep; For here, in late-day’s light and lucid view, The earth exhales her secrets slow to sleep.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
The morning sunlight bathed Punta del Este in a soft, golden glow we rode in a tour bus with large, clean windows along the streets near Punta de las Salinas, my camera Canon dslr at ready, with a Canon EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 L IS USM lens. This was the perfect time of day for street photography—the light was forgiving, and the people were starting their routines. There’s something magical about candid moments, the kind you can only find when the subjects are unaware they’re being watched. It’s these fleeting, authentic snippets of life that draw me to photography.
I came across the Centro de Información Turística, a modest but bustling hub for visitors. A man in a bright turquoise tank top walked briskly past, talking animatedly into his phone. He was a splash of vibrant color against the clean, white facade of the building, his movement so dynamic that I couldn’t resist snapping a photo. The contrast of his modern, casual style against the timeless architecture behind him captured the essence of Punta del Este—a place where history and the contemporary coexist seamlessly.
Candid shots of people at their leisure in and around Great Britain Square of Punta del Este. Departamento de Maldonado, Uruguay
We were headed to the shoreline for the sound of the waves and the refreshing scent of salt in the air. There, on a low stone wall, an older man in neon green shorts leaned back, exercising his arms. His weathered face was relaxed, a picture of contentment. Behind him, the ocean swirled and crashed against the rocks, and I marveled at how effortlessly this simple scene captured the spirit of life in this coastal city—a balance between the energy of the waves and human moments.
Further down the walkway, a group of people strolled leisurely, their conversations punctuated by laughter. One couple caught my eye—an older man in sunglasses walking beside a woman in a bright red sweater. The warmth between them was palpable, the kind of comfort that comes with years spent together. I raised my camera and framed them against the endless blue horizon. The waves rolled in behind them, their rhythm a perfect counterpoint to the couple’s measured pace. It was a reminder that even in a world that feels transient, some things remain steady and enduring.
Crossing the road, I noticed a young family out for a walk. The parents, both casually dressed, pushed a stroller with a little boy inside. The child’s curiosity was evident as he leaned forward, his tiny hands gripping the sides of the stroller as if ready to leap out and explore the world. The scene felt timeless—youthful energy, familial love, and the sense of new beginnings. It was an image I knew I had to capture, a slice of life that would resonate universally.
Progressing to our destination, we passed a small exercise area, where two women worked out on bright green outdoor machines. Their movements were deliberate, their focus unwavering. One wore a vivid orange top, her energy radiating even from a distance, while the other in teal moved with a more relaxed rhythm. The scene was a perfect metaphor for the city itself—a blend of activity and leisure, where people embraced life at their own pace.
We passed a row of homes and modern apartments facing the ocean. One balcony caught my attention—a young woman stood there, brushing her hair as the breeze played with it. She seemed lost in thought, gazing out at the sea, her solitude a sharp contrast to the bustling streets below. The light hit her at just the right angle, turning her into a silhouette against the backdrop of glass and steel. I clicked the shutter—a quiet moment amid the city’s liveliness.
Further along, another balcony revealed two women sitting at a small table, sharing what looked like breakfast. They were deep in conversation, their gestures animated as they leaned toward one another. The table was set simply, with two cups and a plate of food, but the scene exuded warmth and connection. It reminded me that even in a city known for its glamour and style, the real beauty lies in these intimate, unguarded moments.
As I reviewed the images on my camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. Punta del Este had revealed itself in layers that morning—a city of contrasts and harmonies, where every street and every person seemed to have a story to tell. Through my lens, I had tried to capture not just the people, but the rhythm of life here, the interplay of light and shadow, motion and stillness, solitude and togetherness. And as the sun climbed higher in the sky, I knew I had witnessed something special—an ordinary morning made extraordinary by the people who lived it.
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After 25 years of visiting Cocoa Beach, a discovery of coquina clams transformed my appreciation for the ecosystem, revealing its beauty, complexity, and intrinsic connections to life.
For nearly two and a half decades, I’ve strolled the sands of Cocoa Beach—since my first visit in March 2001—comforted by the rhythmic Atlantic waves and the familiar stretch of shoreline. I thought I knew this beach intimately; from the way the sunrise paints the water orange to the feel of wet sand under my feet. Yet it wasn’t until a clear morning in February 2025 that I recognized one of its tiniest treasures: the coquina clam. In the past, I might have walked past countless little shells and the tiny siphons and feet in the sand without a second glance. Now, with newfound awareness, I realize an entire world had been bustling at my toes all along.
February 2025: Discovering the Coquina Clams
Early one February morning, as the high tide receded, I noticed something magical happening at the water’s edge. Tiny coquina clams—each no larger than a fingernail—were emerging from the sand only to swiftly burrow down again between each wave.
These living coquina clams were found in the receeding high tide on a February 2025 morning on Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida
Their small wedge-shaped shells, in colors of pastel pinks, purples, yellows, and whites, peeked out for a moment and then vanished, synchronized with the pulse of the ocean. It was as if the beach itself had come alive with confetti-like jewels, re-positioning themselves with every ebb and flow. I stood entranced, wondering how I’d missed this subtle dance for so many years. That morning marked the beginning of my quest to learn about these little clams that had been hiding in plain sight.
Life Beneath the Sand
Once my eyes were opened, I began observing and researching the coquina clams’ hidden world. I learned that each delicate clam is a filter feeder, siphoning in microscopic phytoplankton, algae, and organic particles from the surf. This constant filtering not only feeds the clam but also helps clean and clarify the coastal waters by removing excess nutrients. Coquinas live a fast-paced, transient life by necessity: they typically survive 1–2 years in the wild and can endure a mere few days without the ocean’s moving water.
No wonder they race to burrow when the waves recede—staying submerged is a matter of life and death, as they rely on the surf for both food and oxygen. In their brief lifespan, they continually ride the tides, migrate in swarms up and down the beach, and rebury themselves between each wave to avoid being swept away.
I found it astonishing that such small creatures possess the agility and tenacity to “surf” the waves and dig themselves back into wet sand within seconds, a graceful routine I had unknowingly witnessed that February morning.
Beyond their daily habits, coquina clams also undergo a remarkable life cycle beneath the sand. They spawn in the warmer months, releasing gametes into the water for external fertilization. The resulting larvae drift as plankton for a time before settling into the sand and metamorphosing into tiny clams. With no parental care to guide them these young coquinas must immediately fend for themselves in the surf zone. Perhaps it’s this independent, perilous beginning that drives them to cluster in large colonies—while they aren’t social in a communicative sense, hundreds of coquinas often live side by side in favorable spots, turning patches of wet sand into vibrant mosaics of color and life.
Walking the beach now, I recognize these patches: slightly raised, pebbly areas that, when a wave washes over, suddenly bristle with tiny siphons and feet as the clams feed and reposition. It’s humbling to realize that under each footstep, an entire hidden ecosystem of coquinas might be thriving.
Shells on the Shore: Beauty and Predation
With my new awareness, even the empty shells strewn along the high tide line told a story. I began to collect some of the colorful coquina shells scattered on the sand, marveling at their variety—no two looked exactly alike. Some were solid orange or yellow, others striped with purple and white, each as delicate as a butterfly wing. Many of these shells were intact, evidence of clams that had lived out their short lives or perhaps fallen prey to gentle endings. Others, however, bore mysterious perfectly round holes on their surfaces. At first glance, I thought a tiny drill had punched through them, and in a way, I was right. Those small holes are the signature of predatory snails that haunt the sands: creatures like moon snails (also known as shark’s-eye snails) and whelks that prey on coquinas by literally boring into their shells. These sand-dwelling snails wrap themselves around a clam and use a tongue-like organ called a radula—akin to a miniature saw—to drill a neat hole through the coquina’s shell, aided by acidic secretions to soften the calcium carbonate. Once the hole is complete, the snail devours the clam from within, leaving behind an empty, perforated shell as a grim calling card of the food chain in action.
Seeing those tiny “murder holes,” as beachcombers jokingly call them, on coquina shells transformed my perspective on the shell collections I had casually admired for years. Each shell in my hand represented a life that had been an integral part of the beach ecosystem. Some had been snatched by shorebirds or fish the instant they were exposed by the retreating tide, becoming breakfast for a sanderling or a pompano. Others, as the holes revealed, had been victims of an even stealthier predator under the sand. It struck me that every fragment and hollowed shell on the beach is evidence of a relationship—predator and prey, life and death intertwined on the shore. Instead of seeing a random assortment of pretty shells, I now saw a record of the beach’s vibrant food web written in calcium carbonate. The realization filled me with both wonder and respect: this sunny tourist beach holds quiet tales of survival as dramatic as any wilderness, if one knows where to look.
The Coquina’s Ecological Role
As I dug deeper (both into the sand and the literature), I discovered that coquina clams are far more than a footnote in the beach ecosystem—they are a keystone of coastal ecology. By filtering plankton and detritus from the surf, countless coquinas collectively act as tiny water purifiers, helping maintain water quality along the shore. Their presence in large numbers indicates a beach’s health; in fact, abundant coquina populations signal that the beach environment is robust and unspoiled. A stretch of sand teeming with coquina clams suggests natural, shifting sands and minimal human interference, as these clams thrive best where coastal processes remain undisturbed. In this way, coquinas are like a barometer for the shoreline: if I continue to find them at Cocoa Beach, it means the beach is still alive and supporting complex life.
Coquina clams also form a critical link in the food chain. Numerous shorebirds rely on them as a food source—those flocks of little sandpipers and plovers skittering at the water’s edge have, all along, been feasting on coquinas right under my nose. Fish that patrol the surf, like the Florida pompano and various kinds of drum (whiting), gulp them up as the waves churn the sand.
These coquina clam shells were found February 2025 on Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida
Even ghost crabs and other scavengers benefit, feeding on clams that wash ashore. And of course, the predatory snails under the sand have a specialized taste for them. It’s a reminder that even a creature only an inch long can be a cornerstone of an entire food web, sustaining animals up the chain from mollusks to birds to fish. Standing on the beach now, I often pause and watch the frenetic chase of the shorebirds in the surf, aware that without the coquina clams beneath the foam, that familiar coastal ballet could cease to exist.
Humanity and the Coquina: Intertwined Histories
It’s not only animals that have interacted with coquina clams—we humans have a longstanding relationship with them as well. Historically, Floridians made use of coquinas as a food source. Local folklore and old recipes describe coquina broth and chowder, a delicate soup made by briefly boiling these tiny clams to extract their flavor.
Because each clam is so small, you’d need hundreds to make a pot of soup, so it’s not a common dish today except perhaps as a novelty. Still, the idea that the sands I walk on could literally be cooked into a chowder is a charming and earthy connection between food and place. Early indigenous peoples and European settlers alike would have recognized coquinas as an edible bounty in times when every bit of protein counted.
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Humans have also found value in the shells of coquinas beyond admiring their beauty. Over time, vast deposits of coquina shells on ancient beaches hardened into a soft limestone rock called coquina stone (the term “coquina” itself comes from the Spanish for “shellfish” or “cockle,” reflecting its composition).
In a fascinating twist of fate, this sedimentary rock—essentially millions of fused clam shells—became a building material. Here in Florida, coquina stone was quarried and used to construct some of our oldest structures. The historic fortifications in St. Augustine, like Fort Matanzas and Castillo de San Marcos, were built from coquina stone, their walls made resilient by a matrix of coquina clam shells.
I find it poetic that the same little clams I only just learned to appreciate have literally been the building blocks of human shelters that have stood for centuries. Even today, crushed coquina shells are used in landscaping and as decorative ground cover—perhaps you’ve seen driveways or garden paths that gleam with fragments of pink and purple shells.
Our lives overlap with the coquina in subtle ways: from the architecture of coastal Florida to the aesthetics of our beach towns.
Modern conservationists note another connection: by protecting natural beach dynamics, we also protect coquina populations, which in turn supports the whole ecosystem. This means being mindful about coastal development, beach renourishment projects, and even how many shells tourists collect. I’ve become more aware that picking up a few pretty coquina shells as souvenirs is fine, but we must leave plenty behind for the beach to recycle and for other creatures to use. For example shorebirds glean minerals from them. The humble coquina clam has given me a new appreciation for how intimately tied human activity is to the smallest inhabitants of the shore.
Reflections: Wonder in the Little Things
My journeys to Cocoa Beach were enhanced: what began as a casual observation in 2025 has blossomed into a profound shift in the way I experience the beach. I feel as if I’ve been given new eyes—now I notice the glint of tiny shells in the sand and know there’s life (or a story of life) attached to each one. The joy of discovery I felt upon noticing the coquina clams has reignited a childlike curiosity in me. It’s astounding that after decades of visits, there was still a secret to uncover on those familiar shores. This realization makes me wonder: What else have I been missing? It’s a reminder that nature has layers upon layers of wonder, even in places we think we know intimately. Sometimes it just takes a shift in perspective, a bit of knowledge, or a quiet moment of attention to peel back the veil.
In reflecting on the coquina clams of Cocoa Beach, I’ve learned not only about a specific species and its role in the world, but also about myself and the value of lifelong learning. These clams, in their smallness and ubiquity, taught me to slow down and appreciate the intricate tapestry of life at my feet. Now, each time I visit the beach, I smile seeing the waves bring in that rush of foam and sand, knowing a hidden troupe of coquinas is hard at work filtering water, dodging predators, and holding up the very balance of the shore. I often kneel down now, running my fingers gently through the wet sand to feel them retreat, and I silently thank them — for cleaning the water, for feeding the birds and fish, for building historic forts (unbeknownst to themselves), and for showing me that wonder can be found in the smallest of places. Cocoa Beach, through the lens of the coquina clam, feels like a brand new world I’ve been lucky enough to discover, even after all these years
I look forward to other hidden marvels awaiting discovery on my next visit.
References
Abbott, R. T. (1974). American Seashells: The Marine Mollusca of the Atlantic and Pacific Coasts of North America. Van Nostrand Reinhold Company.
Andrews, J. (1994). Shells and Shores of Texas. University of Texas Press.
Brusca, R. C., & Brusca, G. J. (2003). Invertebrates (2nd ed.). Sinauer Associates.
Denny, M., & Gaines, S. (2000). Encyclopedia of Tidepools and Rocky Shores. University of California Press.
Futch, C. R., & Burger, J. (1976). The ecology of coquina clams (Donax variabilis) in the southeastern United States. Marine Biology Journal, 34(2), 157-168.
Leal, J. H. (2002). Seashells of Southern Florida: Living Marine Mollusks of the Florida Keys and Adjacent Regions. Smithsonian Institution Press.
Mikkelsen, P. M., & Bieler, R. (2008). Seashells of Southern Florida: Marine Bivalves, The Bivalvia. Princeton University Press.
Morton, B. (1988). Particulate Matter Processing in Bivalves: An Overview. Journal of Marine Ecology, 19(3), 103-123.
Ruppert, E. E., Fox, R. S., & Barnes, R. D. (2004). Invertebrate Zoology: A Functional Evolutionary Approach (7th ed.). Cengage Learning.
Stanley, S. M. (1970). Relation of shell form to life habits of the Bivalvia. Geological Society of America Memoir, 125, 1-296.
Voss, G. L. (1980). Seashells of the Gulf and Atlantic Coasts. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Wells, H. W., & Gray, I. E. (1960). Habitat selection and the distribution of the coquina clam (Donax variabilis). Ecological Monographs, 30(1), 55-77.
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As I stood at the edge of Punta del Este, Uruguay, I marveled at the wild beauty of the place. We were at Punta de las Salinas, the very tip of the peninsula, the edge of where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Río de la Plata. This easternmost point of Uruguay, where time feels suspended as restless waves crash against rocky shores. A sea breeze carries a distinct salty tang.
This is at Great Britain Square, Punta de las Salinas of Punta del Este. We are at the tip of the peninsula, the easternmost point of Uruguay. Punta del Este, Departamento de Maldonado, Uruguay
Pam, my wife, stood beside me, a bright smile on her face as the ocean wind tugged at her sunhat. Behind her, rising among the rocks, was an art installation that seemed to embody the spirit of the place “El Canto de las Sirenas” (The Song of the Mermaids). These sculptures by the artist Lily Perkins, their forms shaped and worn by the elements, appeared almost as though they were natural extensions of the rocky coastline. They gazed out to sea, their haunting beauty a poignant reminder of myth and humanity’s eternal connection with the ocean.
The sirens, crafted with an earthy texture and adorned with bits of marine debris, seemed to tell a story of resilience and adaptation. They stood stoically against the backdrop of the churning waves, their barnacle-like surfaces merging seamlessly with their rugged surroundings. I felt a strange connection to them, as if they were silent witnesses to the ever-changing dance of the sea and sky.
Pam during our 2016 South American tour. This is at Great Britain Square, Punta de las Salinas of Punta del Este. We are at the tip of the peninsula, the easternmost point of Uruguay. Over her shoulder is the art installation “El Canto de las Sirenas” (The Song of the Mermaids) (2012) by the artist Lily Perkins. Punta del Este, Departamento de Maldonado, Uruguay
The morning was perfect for photography. I adjusted my Canon camera, capturing the interplay of light and shadow across the jagged rocks, the turquoise waves, and the statues. The textures of the sirens came alive through the lens, each detail hinting at the passage of time and the endless conversations between water and stone. Pam posed in front of one of the sculptures, her presence adding a touch of humanity to the scene, as though she were part of this mythological tableau.
I took a moment to step back and absorb the scene. The coastline stretched out before me, rugged and raw, with the waves crashing in an eternal rhythm. The sirens belonged here, their forms shaped artist hands, then also by the elements. They merged into this unique place, much like the wind, the rocks, and the ocean.
As we walked along the rocky outcrop, the sound of the waves filled the air, drowning out any other noise. It was easy to lose oneself in the hypnotic patterns of the water, the spray catching the sunlight like tiny jewels. I found myself reflecting on the history of this place—Punta del Este, a meeting point of cultures and stories, a place where the natural world and human creativity converge.
Great Britain Square, where we started this journey, seemed an apt setting for such an installation. The name itself evokes a sense of exploration and connection across vast distances, much like the sirens that seem to call out across the waves. The symbolism was not lost on me as I thought about how we, too, were travelers, drawn to the edges of the earth by a desire to explore and understand.
Plaza Gran Bretana (Great Britain Square) is named for the World War II naval battle near here between the German battleship Graf Spee and the English ships Ajax, Achilles and Exeter. The plaza also has an anchor marking the boundary between Rio de la Plata and the Atlantic Ocean.
Pam and I lingered for a while longer, taking in the scenery and enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. The sculptures seemed almost alive, their forms shifting subtly as the light changed. They reminded me of the stories of sirens from ancient mythology—creatures that lured sailors to their doom with their enchanting voices. But here, they seemed more like guardians, watching over the waters and the land, their presence a testament to the enduring power of art and nature.
As the morning wore on, we made our way back, leaving the sirens behind to their eternal vigil. The experience stayed with me, though, a vivid memory of a place where myth and reality intertwine. Punta de las Salinas, with its rugged beauty and its mysterious sirens, had left an indelible mark on my heart.
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The Finger Lakes region, renowned for its natural beauty and changing seasons, put on a stunning performance on October 24, 2024. From the vibrant reds of a Japanese maple (Acer palmatum) to the golden hues of oak leaves (Quercus spp.), this photographic journey through our home captures the essence of autumn in upstate New York.
A Panoramic Tapestry
In the first photograph, the landscape unfolds like a watercolor painting. Hills dressed in fiery oranges and golds stretch across the horizon, with hints of evergreen pines (Pinus spp.) providing contrast. The sky, dotted with wispy clouds, serves as a serene backdrop, while the foreground frames the scene with bare tree limbs—a reminder that autumn is both a celebration of life and a prelude to winter’s dormancy. This image evokes a sense of timelessness, connecting us to the rolling hills that have witnessed countless seasons of change.
View from our porch across Ithaca to East Hill, Cornell University, Ithaca Falls on an October 2024 afternoon. Tompkins County, Finger Lakes Region, New York State
Japanese Maple: A Crimson Jewel
The next series of images focuses on the Japanese maple (Acer palmatum), a tree whose vibrant red foliage becomes a magnet for admiration in autumn. One close-up reveals delicate leaves, their intricate lobes illuminated by the afternoon sun. The interplay of light and shadow transforms each leaf into a tiny stained-glass window. Another photograph showcases the tree in its entirety, a commanding presence against the verdant lawn. It is a poignant reminder of nature’s artistry, where every branch and leaf contributes to the symphony of color.
Firebush and Japanese Maple in autumn colorsJapanese maple leaves and samara in autumn colors. From our yard October 2024Japanese maple leaves and samara in autumn colors. From our yard October 2024
Home Amid the Foliage
Nestled within this autumnal palette is our home, a mid-century structure that seems almost inseparable from its surroundings. The expansive lawn, a lush carpet of green, contrasts with the fiery colors of nearby oak (Quercus spp.) and maple trees (Acer spp.). In one angle, the house appears almost tucked away, sheltered by Eastern Hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) and junipers (Juniperus spp.) that add a sense of permanence to the scene. This juxtaposition of human habitation and natural splendor underscores how our lives are intertwined with the land we call home.
Our oak trees in autumn colors
Oak Leaves: A Study in Texture
A close-up of oak leaves (Quercus spp.) showcases their rugged beauty, with jagged edges and deep veins that seem etched by time itself. Their colors—ranging from deep amber to burnished copper—are a testament to the richness of autumn’s palette. These leaves, clinging tenaciously to their branches, remind us of resilience and the fleeting beauty of the season.
Our oak tree in autumn colors. Helmock backdrop
Hydrangeas in Transition
The hydrangea bushes (Hydrangea paniculata) by the house present a softer side of autumn. Their once-vivid blooms have faded to pastel pinks and creams, lending an air of nostalgia. These flowers, in their gentle decline, mirror the transition of the season, where vibrancy gives way to a quieter beauty. The hydrangea blooms seem to whisper the story of the summer past, offering a delicate contrast to the bolder hues of the surrounding trees.
Our oak tree in autumn colors. Pam’s hydrangia.
The Resilient Shrubs
Creeping Juniper (Juniperus horizontalis), here in the foreground, provides a grounding element in the composition, with a steadfast green the reminder of life persisting even as deciduous leaves fall. The dense shrubbery near the house creates a protective cocoon, framing the building with a sense of natural security. The dynamic interplay between these evergreens and the changing foliage of maples and oaks reflects the layered complexity of this landscape.
Reflections on an Afternoon
As I wandered through these scenes with camera in hand, I was struck by the interplay of light, color, and texture. Each photograph captures a fleeting moment, a slice of a season that, despite its predictability, never fails to surprise and inspire. Autumn in the Finger Lakes is a time of reflection, a reminder to pause and appreciate the world around us.
These images, taken on a single afternoon, tell a story of a landscape alive with color and character. From the steadfast junipers to the delicate hydrangea blooms, from the fiery maples to the enduring oaks, they invite us to celebrate not just the beauty of nature but also our place within it—a home nestled among trees that have stood for decades, witnessing the rhythms of the earth.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
I had a haunting experience at Cocoa Beach, witnessing a rare fogbow—a ghostly arc formed by fine mist—evoking emotions and reflections on nature’s beauty.
The fog haunted Cocoa Beach for days, softening the edges of the afternoon. I had been walking along Cocoa Beach, feeling the cool ocean breeze on my face, when I noticed a change in the light. It was a little after four, the sun drifting lower in the western sky, its warmth fading into a hazy glow. The air smelled of salt and mist, and waves lapped gently at the shore, their rhythm unbroken by the deepening fog.
And then I saw it.
A pale arc stretched across the horizon, a ghost of a rainbow bending above the waves. At first, I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me—where were the usual bright bands of red, orange, and violet? But no, the arc was real, a fogbow, forming where sunlight met the fine sea mist. Unlike the rainbows that appear after summer storms, this one was almost entirely white, as if the ocean had conjured it from air and silence.
Sailors once whispered of such things—a white rainbow at sea, a sign of hidden land or wandering souls. Some believed it to be a bridge between realms, a fleeting passage where the living and the lost might momentarily brush against one another. Others saw it as an omen, a spectral warning of treacherous fog ahead. I wondered what the mariners of old might have thought, standing at the bow of a ship, watching a pale arc rise from the mist, its edges dissolving like breath against glass.
I stood still, watching, as the science of the moment unfolded before me. Unlike traditional rainbows, which form when light bends through large raindrops, fogbows are born from infinitesimally smaller droplets, often less than 0.1 millimeters in diameter. Their size diffuses the light, scattering it so finely that the colors blend together into a spectral whisper rather than a vibrant shout. The physics of it fascinated me—this was diffraction in action, nature bending light in a way that rendered it nearly colorless.
The effect was surreal. The fogbow arched over the breaking waves like something out of a dream, a halo of sea and sky, momentary yet timeless. It seemed to pulse in the shifting mist, visible one moment, fading the next, as if deciding whether to reveal itself fully or slip back into the fog’s embrace.
For several minutes, I just stood there, taking it in. The world felt different inside that mist, quieter, more reflective. The fog dampened the usual sounds of the beach—the calls of shorebirds, the laughter of distant walkers—leaving only the hush of the waves and the distant hum of the ocean’s breath.
I knew that fogbows were rare, requiring just the right balance of thin fog, moisture, and a low-angled sun. I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time, a witness to something subtle yet profound.
And just as silently as it had appeared, the fogbow began to dissolve. The mist thickened, swallowing its arc, the sky shifting back to its usual muted gray. But the memory of it lingered—a white rainbow over the sea, ephemeral and elusive, like a secret the ocean had briefly chosen to share.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
The evening ebb tide had left behind more than just a fresh line of seaweed and broken shells. As I walked along Cocoa Beach, the cool sand beneath my feet, a small shape caught my eye near the water’s edge. At first, it looked like detritus tossed ashore by the restless ocean. But as I stepped closer, I saw the unmistakable outline of a shark—its pale, twitching body lay on the damp sand.
Stopping to bend and examine it, my breath caught as I recognized its flattened, shovel-shaped head. This was a bonnethead shark (Sphyrna tiburo), one of the smallest members of the hammerhead family. Its eyes, positioned far apart on either side of its head, stared blankly at the sky. A thin film of seawater still clung to its sleek, streamlined body, reflecting the golden light of the rising sun.
Its scientific name, Sphyrna tiburo, reveals much about its nature and form. Sphyrna comes from the Greek σφῦρα (sphyra), meaning “hammer,” a fitting reference to the distinct shape shared by all hammerhead sharks. The species name, tiburo, is thought to have originated from an indigenous or Spanish term for small sharks found in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico. Together, these words encapsulate the bonnethead’s identity—a hammer-shaped predator of the shallow seas, yet one that stands apart from its larger, more formidable relatives.
Named for its distinctive cephalofoil—the flattened, bonnet-like shape of its head—Sphyrna tiburo plays an essential role in maintaining the balance of marine ecosystems. As a mid-level predator, it helps regulate populations of crabs, shrimp, and small fish, preventing any one species from overpopulating and disrupting the delicate food web. Unlike most sharks, the bonnethead is also partially omnivorous, consuming seagrass along with its usual diet of crustaceans and mollusks. This unique feeding behavior contributes to the health of seagrass beds, which serve as crucial habitats for many marine creatures.
Bonnetheads are harmless to humans, known for their non-aggressive nature and their surprising diet—unlike most sharks, they eat not just crustaceans and fish, but seagrass as well. Gentle foragers of the shallows, they are common in Florida’s coastal waters, where they glide just beneath the surface, their unique head shape helping them detect prey buried beneath the sand.
But this one would swim no more. It was too late. Whether it had fallen victim to a fisherman’s discarded catch, an injury, or something unseen—disease, pollution, or fluctuating ocean temperatures—it was impossible to tell. All I knew was that this creature, so perfectly adapted to the rhythms of the sea, had been cast ashore by forces beyond its control.
A wave surged forward, washing over the shark’s still body, as if the ocean itself fruitlessly nudged it to life. The rising tide swirled, lifting the bonnethead and carrying it back into its world.
As I stood watching the tide pull it away, I felt a strange mix of sorrow and reverence. The sea is full of life, but it also takes life in its endless cycle. The bonnethead had played its part in that vast, unknowable story.
And now, it was gone.
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Arcosanti, envisioned by Paolo Soleri, exemplifies sustainable urban living but faces challenges in realization, scalability, and contemporary relevance.
Arcosanti, the brainchild of architect Paolo Soleri, was conceived as an experimental laboratory for urban design and ecological principles—a built embodiment of his vision of Arcology (a fusion of “architecture” and “ecology”). Over fifty years since its groundbreaking in 1970, Arcosanti remains a significant cultural and architectural artifact. However, the meaning and relevance of both Arcosanti and Arcology in today’s context invite critical examination.
The accompanying photographs are a presentation of the history of Arcology from Arcosanti signage
Arcosanti 5000 — Soleri’s Ultimate Vision
Historical Context and the Vision of Arcology
Soleri’s concept of Arcology emerged during the mid-20th century, an era of increasing environmental awareness, urban sprawl, and population growth. His vision was radical: compact, self-sustaining urban environments that minimized ecological impact while fostering human interaction and creativity. Arcology sought to challenge the sprawling, resource-intensive models of urban development that dominate the modern world.
Today’s population of the Earth is about 5 billion people. By the year 2050 the population of the Earth will be 10 billion people.* With the same human condition of today and the same stresses imposed on the biosphere, there would be the need for 2 Earths.
Since the American Dream society has an average per capita “consumption” about 20 times the average per capita consumption of the whole human society, for the 10 billion people of the year 2050 to be “elevated” to the American Dream’s affluence level, there would be the need of 2 x 20 = 40 Planet Earths.
Assuming that by then we all will be twice as efficient in our production-consumption-gratification pursuits, we would need only 19 more planets. Where are we going to get 19 additional Planet Earths?
The American Dream physically embodied in the single-family house has to be scrapped and reinvented in terms which are coherent with the human and biospheric reality.
Toward a Possible Resolution
Only a true, lean urbanization strung along a highly efficient, i.e., frugal logistical grid combining superconductivity-maglev transportation of people and freight, viaducts, aqueducts, power grids, sewage and solid waste grids, etc., compensating for the loss of consumption-gratification unlimited by the way of an intense social, convivial, natural, esthetic, productive, sane life; only such novel structure will be able to translate the American Dream into a democratic, planetary reality.
The alternative, to persist in the dying American Dream, is a planetary-human catastrophe.
The subject matter of this exhibit is about one aspect of the possible resolution. It would couple indissolubly the well-being of Homo sapiens, 10 billion of us, with the well-being of the only planet we can inhabit for the time being.
All statistics based on 1993 United Nations data cited by the Worldwatch Institute.
(signed) Paolo Soleri
Arcosanti was intended to be a prototype—a proof of concept for dense urban living within a minimal environmental footprint. Its design embraced verticality, integration with natural surroundings, and multi-use spaces to reduce resource consumption. Soleri’s philosophy rejected wasteful consumerism and emphasized communal living, self-sufficiency, and harmony with nature.
Arcosanti as a Realization of Arcology
While Soleri’s ideas were visionary, Arcosanti itself never fully realized its original ambitions. Planned to house 5,000 people, it currently accommodates fewer than 100 residents. This gap between aspiration and reality reflects several challenges:
Paolo Soleri had established his residence and studios in Paradise Valley, Arizona, before he embarked on developing alternative urban theories. Although the Cosanti structures are small, Soleri experimented with various innovative construction techniques, including silt casting, to demonstrate effective use of building materials. His imaginative forms were adapted to the desert environment, and Cosanti became the exploratory launching pad for the Arcosanti project.
Scale and Funding: Building a sustainable community of this scale required vast financial and organizational resources. Arcosanti, largely constructed through volunteer labor and workshops, lacked the momentum to expand at the pace Soleri envisioned.
Upon completion of his theoretical work MESA CITY, whose purpose was the quest for an environment in harmony with man, Soleri established the Cosanti Foundation, a non-profit educational foundation. He was determined to continue his investigations into more efficient urban systems. To demonstrate his theories, Soleri proposed an urban-scale community MACRO COSANTI, envisioned for Arizona high desert.
Cultural Shifts: The communal living and austerity championed by Soleri contrast sharply with the consumer-driven values of contemporary society. The rise of globalized capitalism, suburban expansion, and digital individualism has made the communal ethos less appealing to many.
The term ARCOLOGY was coined to describe a series of urban designs for ecologically sound human habitats, as elaborated in “The City in the Image of Man,” published by MIT Press. This thesis outlines the concept of ARCOLOGY and its design variations for different settings. ARCOSANTI was introduced as the last (30th) example of this exercise, and originally planned to house a relatively small population of 500. The physical construction of ARCOSANTI began in 1970.
Technological Advances: Soleri’s designs were innovative for their time, but modern advancements in sustainable technology—such as solar power, green building materials, and decentralized energy systems—have surpassed some of his ideas. Today, sustainable urbanism focuses on retrofitting existing cities rather than building entirely new ones.
The Relevance of Arcology Today
Despite its limitations, Arcology remains profoundly relevant in the face of 21st-century challenges such as climate change, resource scarcity, and urban overpopulation. Soleri’s principles offer a framework to address these crises, particularly through:
The Xerox Corporation sponsored a major Soleri exhibition featuring a series of new arcology designs that suggested a sustainable urban habitat employing alternative energy sources. The project was called “TWO SUNS ARCOLOGY: The Cities Energized by the Sun.” The Arcosanti master plan went through a major overhaul reflecting this methodology. In the following year, PLANT SHOW venues gave Soleri additional funding to update the Arcosanti design. The projected population was increased to 5,000.
Compact Urbanism: Cities worldwide are grappling with the environmental toll of urban sprawl. Arcology’s emphasis on vertical, compact cities with reduced land usage aligns with the modern push for urban densification.
Ten years into the construction of the first prototype arcology, a developmental adjustment was made in order to gain momentum for the project. The CRITICAL MASS concept was introduced as an incremental phase to house 10 percent of the projected population of 5,000. A series of small-scale structures providing various amenities was designed to support a viable community, a critical population of 500 people. This would hopefully function as a springboard to the next major step, the completion of Arcosanti.
Mixed-Use and Communal Spaces: The COVID-19 pandemic underscored the importance of walkable, mixed-use neighborhoods and shared green spaces. Arcology’s model of integrated living and working spaces anticipates these needs.
Sustainability and Circular Systems: Soleri’s focus on minimizing waste and resource use aligns with today’s circular economy principles. Arcology’s ideas resonate with efforts to design cities as closed-loop systems that reuse resources.
The apse initiative was a result of an expanded version of the Third Generation Arcology using Soleri’s signature forms: Apse and Exedra. This initiative suggests possible solutions to the existing urban renewal opportunities (Presidio, Stapleton, Phoenix, and Hanover Expo 2000) as well as hypothetical rural development opportunities. ARCOSANTI 2000 consists of 3 major units. The design was modified later with an addition of SUPER CRITICAL MASS (THE WAVES), three superstructure apses combined and placed behind Critical …
A Philosophical Challenge: Beyond practical urban design, Arcology challenges us to rethink our relationship with the planet and with each other. It invites a fundamental shift from individualistic consumption to collective stewardship.
Critique of Arcosanti Today
Arcosanti, while iconic, serves more as a symbol than a fully functioning example of Arcology. Its limited population and incomplete development highlight key shortcomings:
Lack of Scalability: Arcosanti has not demonstrated how Arcology principles can scale to meet the needs of modern cities with millions of inhabitants.
ARCOSANTI 5000
2001 – present
Developed from the SUPER CRITICAL MASS in ARCOSANTI 2000 with the design elements of NUDGING SPACE ARCOLOGY added, ARCOSANTI 5000 features seven phases of truncated superapse structures. It re-establishes the macro nature of this prototype arcology for 5,000 people. This design is still in development, waiting on the architectural and structural resolutions.
Dependence on External Systems: Despite its aspirations for self-sufficiency, Arcosanti relies on external power grids, supply chains, and tourism, which limits its autonomy.
Cultural Niche: Arcosanti appeals primarily to a niche audience of artists, architects, and environmentalists, making it less accessible or appealing to broader populations.
However, these critiques do not negate its value as a learning tool. Arcosanti’s enduring presence serves as a physical and philosophical case study for those seeking alternatives to conventional urbanism.
A Way Forward?
The future of Arcology lies not in building new Arcosanti-like prototypes but in applying its principles to existing cities and communities. Initiatives such as urban vertical farming, passive solar building design, and car-free city centers echo Soleri’s vision in modern contexts.
Additionally, Arcosanti itself could pivot toward becoming a research hub for sustainable practices, a cultural landmark, or a retreat for those seeking inspiration in Soleri’s ideas. By focusing on education and experimentation, it could remain relevant in contemporary discussions about urbanism and ecology.
Conclusion
Arcosanti and Arcology are more than relics of a bygone architectural movement—they are reminders of humanity’s potential to live in balance with nature. While the practical implementation of Arcology faces significant hurdles, its core philosophy continues to inspire efforts to create more sustainable and harmonious urban environments. In a world increasingly shaped by environmental urgency, Soleri’s vision holds lessons we cannot afford to ignore.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 