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The story of the Crooked River Lighthouse begins with the destruction of its predecessor on Dog Island, which was lost to a hurricane in 1873. Recognizing the vulnerability of the island, authorities chose to build its replacement on the secure mainland. Despite various setbacks, the new lighthouse was completed in 1895, accompanied by two residences […]

Amidst a thin flock aerating a suburban lawn, a single ibis ceased its probing, then rotated as if with oiled gears. Its long curved beak turned to me, like a compass needle finding a new north. This ibis didn’t blink, it simply aligned, radiating static about Egyptiana and large blocks of stone.

Feathered enigmas scythed back into Sarasota’s sky. Their forked tails seemed longer, trailing wisps of discarded thought. The kites themselves ignored our ongoing chaos, wheeling grace, occasionally dropping hopes of floatation. Their return hasn’t heralded spring; it has perforated the veil of the insane.