on island time
for more videos and pics click on the pics below, and at the bottom of the page...
To the sea, to the sea, the white gulls are crying, the wind is blowing, the white foam is flying, west west away, the round sun is falling...
na'aear, na'aear, myl lain nallol, i sul ribiel, a i falf loss reviol, na annun hai, ias annor dannol...
(Sindarin translation: Ryszard Derdinski, www.elvish.org)
J.R.R. Tolkien wrote those words, published in Return of the King, the third book of his epic fantasy Lord of the Rings, published the year I was born (you do the math). That song (sung by Legolas the Elf of Mirkwood, as he strides out of the tale) has been my going to the sea song for decades. I first discovered Chincoteague Island through one of the many horse books I read as a kid: Marguerite Henry's Misty of Chincoteague. When a chapter on Misty and Chincoteague appeared in Henry's Album of Horses, I showed it to my dad. "We should go there," he said.
"What? It's a real place?"
I have been going there ever since (the last year Misty was alive). Here are some pics taken the week before the storm. Hurricane Irene was hitting the islands even as I first wrote this. Chincoteague, and its outrider, Assateague, are barrier islands, their nature is to shapeshift with wind and tide. They, and their rich assortment of wildlife, feral ponies, and people weathered this one well.
For which I am glad. I want to return, and live again on island time.
na'aear, na'aear, myl lain nallol, i sul ribiel, a i falf loss reviol, na annun hai, ias annor dannol...
(Sindarin translation: Ryszard Derdinski, www.elvish.org)
J.R.R. Tolkien wrote those words, published in Return of the King, the third book of his epic fantasy Lord of the Rings, published the year I was born (you do the math). That song (sung by Legolas the Elf of Mirkwood, as he strides out of the tale) has been my going to the sea song for decades. I first discovered Chincoteague Island through one of the many horse books I read as a kid: Marguerite Henry's Misty of Chincoteague. When a chapter on Misty and Chincoteague appeared in Henry's Album of Horses, I showed it to my dad. "We should go there," he said.
"What? It's a real place?"
I have been going there ever since (the last year Misty was alive). Here are some pics taken the week before the storm. Hurricane Irene was hitting the islands even as I first wrote this. Chincoteague, and its outrider, Assateague, are barrier islands, their nature is to shapeshift with wind and tide. They, and their rich assortment of wildlife, feral ponies, and people weathered this one well.
For which I am glad. I want to return, and live again on island time.
