White Pelicans Archives

There are precious few communities in our comparatively young country where structures from the mid-1700s exist today. Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, less than an hour south of St. Louis, was the first European settlement west of the Mississippi. To touch the rock-solid wall of a vertical log home that a French Creole settler built more than 250 years ago is a rare experience. Although it can be hard to imagine what life was like for these families, Ste. Genevieve seems to be loaded with knowledgeable historians who can help. If you come here, take the time to tour as many of these homes as possible and then just walk around – there are fine examples of architecture from the 1800s and early 1900s as well. Many residents of these historic homes can trace their own ancestry back to the early settlers.

Townsfolk of Ste. Genevieve understand what a treasure their unique history is, and they love sharing it at events like Saturday’s Rural Heritage Day. Dressed in period costumes, people were demonstrating everything from lace making and blacksmithing to apple cider pressing and soap making. You could learn to juggle, make a rag rug or visit the cemetery and make a rubbing from a headstone.

And you could eat! My dear friend, Kay, drove from Springfield, MO, to join me for the weekend and since I promised her I wouldn’t make public all that we ate, suffice it to say we didn’t leave much unsampled!

It was wonderful to have company from home and our time together flew by.

When Kay left early Sunday morning, I knew that while she would be in our hometown by lunchtime, I wouldn’t see it again until almost Thanksgiving. That brought pangs of homesickness. As I loaded my car for the 32^nd or so time, there was a strong road-weary loneliness. This River isn’t done with me yet. I had expected to feel this at some point – it’s a long journey. So here it is.

Just take it to the river, I thought. This is a journey of surrender to “what is”, not of putting a positive spin on anything or distracting myself to make it better. Just be with it. The sky was still inky blue and the horizon just starting to glow orange. I sat on the rocks and watched. There was no resistance to the feelings – they were accepted. There was no struggle going on inside me – no suffering – just an allowing of this moment and these feelings to be just as they are – a full experiencing of them.

It’s easy enough to be fully present with a moment of joy, but another matter to be present with a moment of sadness and loneliness. For much of my life, I met such moments with a toolbox of ways to fix it, change it, make it go away. But like a wound that festers under cover, it persists. It needs fresh air and the light of our attention. Sadness is as much a valid human experience as happiness.

I watched the river. It doesn’t care what emotion I bring it – they are all just emotions. They come and they go. The river is eternal and constantly brand new. A philosopher named Heraclitus said, “You cannot step into the same river twice.” And yet, it is eternal. There is a Stillness that is completely unaffected by anything. I sat quietly and meditated and felt that same Stillness in me and in everything.

Eventually I felt the sun shining brightly and opened my eyes to the day. I simply stood up and walked to the car in peace and drove without intention.

I drove out to the levee and as I reached the top I could see a vast backwater slough several miles long. It was completely covered with white fluttery movement.

As I came closer, I could see the shapes of birds and flashes of black when wings were raised. It was thousands – I don’t know how to guess, but it must have been as many as 8 or 10 thousand White Pelicans completely covering the water. Tears of absolute awe sprang from my heart. I could barely breathe.

I took a couple of shots and watched as a few birds lifted off, then a few more, then a great cloud of White Pelicans filled the air, many passing right over my head.

I have never experienced anything like it.

Then they were gone. I stood smiling and crying and saying a prayer of thanks. And yet there was more.

If I didn’t have these photographs to show you, I would probably not tell you this part. It seems unbelievable even to me.

Just over my head, a Bald Eagle appeared. It was doing some sort of aerial acrobatics, twisting and turning summersaults in the air.

It wasn’t holding any prey but its talons were splayed out wide. Then it righted itself, stretched out its wings and flew in a big arc over my head and then out over the wide valley below. I have no words.

Lead on, little raindrop.

I am yours.

I’m a bit behind! Things have been happening so fast since I stepped off that barge, I’m running to keep up with myself, much less finding time to write and process images. But, I’ll try to catch us up this morning!

I spent two nights in the pretty little river town of Louisiana, MO, at the quiet, country home of John and Karen Stoeckly. John is a talented artist who does beautifully detailed pen and ink drawings (click here if you’d like to see them). Karen is an amazing gourmet cook and together they own The Eagles’ Nest Winery, Bistro and Bed and Breakfast in downtown Louisiana. (charming place, great food and the business is for sale if that catches your fancy!)

With all they have going on, they still found time to share themselves and their home with me. I’ve been eating very well lately – the second night I was invited to the home of their friends, Dr. Ned Glenn, a retired physician, and his wife, the Reverend Patricia Glenn, an Episcopalian Priest, along with their son, Wes, and lifelong friend Martha Sue Smith, who interviewed me for her radio show on WBBA. It was a night of lively conversation with bright, creative folks. Thanks to all of you!

Of course, I had to visit the place where the memory of Mark Twain lives on, perhaps more than anywhere else – Hannibal, MO. His boyhood home, his father’s law office, Becky Thatcher’s home and the infamous Mark Twain cave are all there. If you’re a fan (and who isn’t to some degree?), don’t miss the Mark Twain Museum which includes the original Norman Rockwell paintings created as illustrations for Huckelberry Finn.

Then I made fast tracks to Alton, Illinois, where my husband, Mike, joined me for the weekend. We had a great time in what I expected would be a quaint, quiet town. Not so! On a perfect, sunny fall weekend, it was a happening place! It’s a favorite spot for motorcyclists and I have honestly never seen so many big bikes in one place in my life.

In order to keep pace with our raindrop, I move on every two days. It’s the honest truth that every time I leave a community, there is the thought, “I could really enjoy spending more time here.” I could spend nine years on this journey and still not follow up on all the interesting stories and people I encounter. That was certainly true in Alton.

The world’s tallest man grew up (and up!) in Alton. Mike and I snuggled up to the life-sized statue of Robert Wadlow, all 8’11” of it! He was, by all accounts, a sweet, gentle man who lived in an era when there was no treatment for his overactive pituitary gland. Although he and his family did their best to keep life “normal”, there was no avoiding the notoriety that came, so his response seemed to be one of gentle good humor. Still, it must have been a very challenging life and Mike and I empathized with its daily details like having to walk sideways on stairs not made to accommodate his size 37 shoes.

There are a dozen stories that presented themselves in Alton that I would love to follow. In the tumultuous years of the Civil War, Alton was an important stop on the Underground Railroad. The region of Missouri just across the river was known as “Little Dixie”, having been settled largely by slave-owning families from the South. Missouri was a slave state at the time and although Illinois was a free state, there was much pro-slavery sentiment in Alton. There are vivid tales of mob violence and stories of escaping slaves being secreted to freedom that either died with the people who lived them or have been kept quiet by the families involved. Judy Hoffman is an author and historian who spent 12 years researching and writing a book called God’s Portion: Godfrey, Illinois 1817-1865. She is the wife of the first mayor of Godfrey, an adjoining town incorporated in 1991, who now lives in a gorgeous loft in the heart of downtown Alton. She graciously invited Mike and I to visit and shared some of the intriguing stories she has uncovered, which gave us a unique look into this aspect of Alton’s past.

There is an amazing 33-mile stretch of road here known as the “Meeting of the Great Rivers Scenic Byway” which travels beside some magnificent river bluffs between the point where the Illinois River joins forces with the Mississippi to the point where the Missouri River does the same. At one end is the largest State Park in Illinois, Pere Marquette State Park, where we found a drop-dead gorgeous view with the first signs of fall color showing in the treetops below.

At the other end is the Lewis and Clark Confluence Tower, honoring the point where that famous journey began up the Missouri River. We let no moss grow on us this weekend! At the National Great Rivers Museum, Mike tried being a barge pilot at the simulated exhibit. (It might not be his calling as he crashed into the wall three tries out of three!) We toured the Melvin Price Lock & Dam, one of the largest on the Mississippi and were able to be in the observation room as a towboat and barge passed just below us. It looks even bigger from that perspective than it did from the towboat!

We visited a flock of White Pelicans who just arrived last week for their annual visit to the Riverlands Migratory Bird Sanctuary. We had some great food, including a lunch at the lively Grafton Winery, full of folks enjoying live music inside and views of the river and the parade of traffic passing by on the outside decks. We also scoped out a few spots to hit on a return trip at some point, like the Tara Point B&B, where the view of the confluence of the Illinois and Mississippi took our breath away.

It was glorious to have Mike with me for the weekend. I’m thankful to him for coming and for his sweet, supportive, loving presence in my life. I am one lucky woman!

Love, Gayle

A Deeper Surrender

Movin’ On