Water Pearl Palace created by Dylan & Ted Gaffney 10.12.12 ~ Florence Griswold Museum, Old Lyme, Connecticut
10.12.12 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Queen Moonstone and her sprites live in Water Pearl Palace built in the twisted roots of the giant sycamore tree. During the day they guard this mystical gateway to other worlds, but gather every evening to dance among the great boughs of the tree and along the rippling stream celebrating creativity. Within the many nooks and crannies of the subterranean palace, the sprites leave tokens found during their nightly travels. Visit on a full moon and witness their grand party when they assist all who seek their help. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
10.12.12 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. ~ Emily Brontë (The Complete Poems of Emily Jane Brontë)
10.12.12 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn’t seen some of it. ~ George MacDonald (The Princess & The Goblin)
Autumnal Fortress created by Kristen Thornton 10.12.12 ~ Florence Griswold Museum, Old Lyme, Connecticut
Faellan is the faerie for colorful autumn foliage. His name comes from Old English and means an abundance of leaves, aka the fall! The many colors and textures of the leaves inspire the painters in so many ways. As the leaves turn from green to gold, they capture the creative imaginations at several stages. Whether held aloft in the tree top, dancing fancifully through the autumn air, or carpeting the ground below, Faellan’s leaves are the season’s showstoppers. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
Blind folk see the fairies, Oh, better far than we, Who miss the shining of their wings Because our eyes are filled with things We do not wish to see. They need not seek enchantment From solemn, printed books, For all about them as they go The fairies flutter to and fro With smiling, friendly looks. ~ Rose Fyleman (White Magic)
Deaf folk hear the fairies However soft their song; ‘Tis we who lose the honey sound Amid the clamor all around That beats the whole day long. But they with gentle faces Sit quietly apart; What room have they for sorrowing While fairy minstrels sit and sing Close to their listening heart? ~ Rose Fyleman (White Magic)
The fairies have never a penny to spend, They haven’t a thing put by, But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower And theirs are the earth and the sky. And though you should live in a palace of gold Or sleep in a dried-up ditch, You could never be as poor as the fairies are, And never as rich. ~ Rose Fyleman (Fairies & Chimneys)
Marsh Light Manor at Lookout Hollow created by Lori & Edward Lenz 10.12.12 ~ Florence Griswold Museum, Old Lyme, Connecticut
Luka built this manor house for his wife Inza and their family of light fareies at the base of this tree from the river rocks and marsh grasses. He created porches and windows to view and capture the light as it dances across the water. Mirrors and magic help Luka and his wife to “bottle” the light. Each of the children take turns delivering a month of special light to the plein-air artists who capture its distinct glow in paint. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
Now that some of the excitement has passed by, at least for us, I hope to share a few more fairy house posts in the coming days…
Auntie was transferred to a rehab center last week, a day or two after the storm. She’s able to walk a little and is making some progress in physical therapy there. We finally got up to see her yesterday and were grateful to know that she had some visitors in the hospital and at the rehab center.
Dad is on antibiotics now for bronchitis and we stopped by to see him, too, and showed him our storm pictures on the TV screen. He was somewhat impressed, but decided that the Great New England Hurricane of 1938 he survived when he 16 was far more destructive. He wasn’t feeling too well, but it was good to visit with him anyway.
We are overflowing with gratefulness for the gift of a wonderful young woman named Chelsea, who was hired to help out with Dad and Auntie’s care in September. What an awesome blessing she has been to our family! She has sat with Auntie in the hospital and at the rehab center, and darted back and forth between those places and the house, to give attention to both of the ancient ones. She has been a cheerful, hard-working, kind, calming and pleasant presence to have around and has gotten us through this difficult stretch, even coming in the evening and on the weekends. Thank you so much, Chelsea!!!
The picture above shows that the storm surge was still relatively high. There is a sidewalk just behind that white fence and the water never comes up to the top of the wall like it is in this picture. We were planning to make our way over there to snap even more pictures, but the police suddenly decided it was time to have all of us leave the area so the city workers could start operating their equipment to clean up the beach! If we had anticipated that happening we would have gone out there first off and worked our way back. 🙂
In this picture you can see that a portion of the white fence is missing (left of center), and a bit of the wall with some of its top missing. In the summer this stretch of sand is covered with mothers chatting under umbrellas, their children playing, blankets, towels, beach balls, shovels and buckets – I had my place among them – and senior citizens reclining, dozing or reading in deluxe beach loungers, enjoying their time in the sun…
men at work, collecting chunks of stone for the payloader to haul away
remnants of the wall
sand and rocks deposited in front of Zbierski House
many rocks landed in the playground
waves still crashing over breakwater, wall, ramp and stairs
debris rammed into corner of wall and parking lot
section of wall in the foreground moved across the sidewalk
Although we were amazed to see the damage done by Superstorm Sandy here on our little part of the Connecticut shoreline, we know that New York and New Jersey had it far worse and our hearts go out to them. It is truly heartbreaking to see the TV footage of the devastation they are enduring while we sit in the comfort of our living room.
However, I have a hard time feeling much sympathy for the people in the wealthier beachfront areas of Connecticut. Many of their homes were destroyed in Hurricane Irene just last year and they foolishly rebuilt at the same locations, and were wiped out again this time.
Recently I read an article that referred to a “way of life that was based on a mindless materialism oblivious to nature and its boundaries.”* I think this is a case in point. Mother Nature is delivering us a strong message about where we should not be building our homes. Climatologists say we can expect more of these super storms in the near future and rising sea levels in general, due to global warming.
During the Great New England Hurricane of 1938, all the summer cottages and much of the land at Bluff Point, here in Groton, were swept away by the storm surge. Nobody rebuilt there. The newly formed peninsula became a state park. It seems like the most sensible response to such a loss. When will we stop stubbornly resisting the forces of nature and start trying to live in harmony with them?
*”Power of Nature” by Gitte Larsen, Søren Steen Olsen, and Steen Svendsen, Utne Reader, Nov-Dec 2012
sand so deep it covered the curbs ~ 10.30.12 ~ Eastern Point Beach
sand covering the road, the entrance, the grass, the playground
sand and seaweed caught in the fence
the wall between the beach and the playground
The surge took large chunks of stone from the top of the wall separating the sandy beach from the grassy playground. The playground was now covered with sand and rocks from the wall. The sidewalk running along the playground side of the wall was badly damaged, too.
Barbara contemplating the awesome power of Mother Nature
there is normally a good stretch of sand between the life guard chair and the water
driftwood in the foreground, Avery Point campus in the distance
a fallen tree across the street from our condo complex 10.30.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Tuesday morning we went down to see how our beloved beach had fared in the storm. We kept taking turns with the camera so I’ll credit us both with the pictures in this post! Beach Pond Road was closed to traffic so we walked by the pond on our way to Eastern Point Beach. The storm surge had breached the dunes separating the pond from Long Island Sound, and pushed the water and debris across the street and up onto the lawns across the street.
Beach Pond Road
the surge had not fully receded from its highest level
view of the flooded Beach Pond, dunes and Long Island Sound in the background
same view, the bushes in the foreground were still surrounded by water
I think city workers had already plowed away the sand on the road because we were not at all prepared for the scene that awaited us when we got to the beach itself! The road there was covered with about a foot and a half of sand!
Eastern Point Beach
basketball court covered in sand
looks like the top of a tree from who-knows-where
Tyler House still surrounded by high water
a park bench turned over and buried in the sand
amazed that we could step over the buried chain link fence
Miakoda is a Native American word for the power of the moon. The gravity from last night’s full moon added 2 to 3 feet to Hurricane Sandy’s storm surge at high tide. We are safe and sound!
You may have heard of survivor guilt. I am suffering a case of power guilt. For some reason we cannot fathom, we never lost power from the super storm, even though the lights flickered here at times and the neighborhoods surrounding ours lost theirs.
Apparently I fell soundly asleep early last night and Tim went out to take storm surge pictures at high tide without me. He says I said good-bye but I don’t remember it. Amazing I could sleep through all the excitement! The pictures of the surge didn’t come out so well, but he got some amazing shots of the full moon in the storm clouds!
The full moon sailed bright through that Ocean on high, And the wind murmured past with a wild eerie sound. ~ Emily Brontë (The Complete Poems of Emily Jane Brontë)
Tym-Brrr is the faerie of tree stumps and dead wood, a subject often depicted in the foreground of landscape paintings. Twisted and broken trees suggest the awesome power of nature; the aftermath of a lightning storm or strong winds. Tree stumps, on the other hand, humanize an otherwise wild scene. Tym-Brr eats and plays in one cave, sleeps in another, and stores his sailboat for seeking out driftwood in the third. Clues to how trees become “never green” are burned into the outer walls. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
10.12.12 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Fairies are invisible and inaudible like angels. But their magic sparkles in nature. ~ Lynn Holland (A Faerie Treasury)
