Where Turtles Can Fly

There is a place on earth where turtles can fly…

… and you can too.

It’s a place where feet flock to hide from the heat of the sweltering summer, 

…and where some take refuge from the winter’s chill.

It is a place to relax and destress,

...and to explore the intersection of two worlds.

It is a calming green paradise, replete with swaying Sagitteria, 

... and an abundance of diverse vegetation that serves as a habitat for a fishes and invertebrates.

It is a place where reflective illusions play tricks on your mind,

... where some come to dream in a storm of blue,

... and others come to study what happens just beneath the surface.

This impossibly clear water is not only a haven and a laboratory but also a reminder of what lies beneath. It's a little glimpse of the invisible aquifer beneath our feet: the fragile source of water that sustains our daily lives. 

This, and so much more, is Gilchrist Blue Spring. And it's for sale.

Words and photographs will never do justice to this amazing place, but we can try, and I hope to help by sharing these photographs and accompanying words that are all inspired by Blue's refreshing waters. I hope that you will take the plunge at Blue Spring and fall deeply in love for yourself. And I hope that you will also take action to help Blue become a Florida State Park. This Friday, June 19, 2015, the Acquisition and Restoration Council will meet in Tallahassee to consider the spring as a state park. Please sign this petition to help them reach their goal of 750 signatures: 

...and please see this informative post by Our Santa Fe River for more information about sending an email to the council on behalf of Blue Spring. It's the least we can do to thank Blue for all that she so generously offers us through her inspirational and relaxing waters. Thank you so much for taking the time and for joining me in supporting something so close to both my heart and the hearts of so many fellow Floridians.

Thank you, Jenny (www.jenniferadlerphotography.com)

PS on a more personal note, Blue is my favorite place to photograph. Its reflective waters have inspired some of my best photographs and writing and have been the site of my scientific field studies. I have visited blue about 50 times and cannot imagine my world without it. I am optimistic that together we can preserve this unique and irreplaceable ecosystem so that we and our children, grandchildren, etc. may continue to enjoy its crystal blue embrace <3

Congratulations Dr. Wendy Graham!

It was a pleasure working with University of Florida Preeminence to shoot the images for their feature on Dr. Wendy...
Posted by Jennifer Adler Photography on Friday, May 29, 2015

Lenses and Love

My latest blog post is up on the "State of Water, State of Change" blog, a blog that highlights the work of students at the University of Florida's College of Journalism and Communications. This past semester, I was lucky to take an Environmental Journalism course with Cynthia Barnett - "Lenses and love: The art of Saving Florida's springs" is my final long-form piece for the class, a story about the role of art in saving Florida's springs. A million thanks to the amazing artists that talked over tea at Volta, under live oaks at the Prairie, on the phone while driving to a presentation, and in their own living rooms - you are all incredible sources of inspiration and I thank you for sharing your beautiful stories. And of course thank you to Cynthia, whose patience, 5 a.m. edits, always-helpful suggestions, and kind words have so incredibly shaped my development as a writer.

Check out the latest story from State of Water, State of Change, a showcase of work from Environmental Journalism...
Posted by Cynthia Barnett on Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Phosphorescent forest

The forest dances at dusk.

The chorus of cicadas sings to the harmony of crickets, the melodious symphony breaking the silence of the summer darkness that stealthily replaces the remnants of the sun’s orange glow. Flashes of light dot the thick evening air as fireflies waltz... The understory is alive.

In the landlocked forest, I have never felt so close to the sea. Water splashes into my mind, bringing waves of memories: summer slumber on the sailboat, starry nights illuminating the harbor, the ocean under a crisp crescent moon as I lay on the salty deck. I am wading in a sea of phosphorescence.

The crackling leaves under my flip-flops break my ocean dreams; the phosphorescent ocean in my mind gives way to a forest floor, glittering under a hand-stitched quilt of fireflies.

World Water Day & the Blue embrace

The chilly, yet welcome, embrace of Blue engulfed me; 

as I took the plunge, she cradled me in her arms. 

Without a wetsuit, the shock of the spring instantaneously awoke 

my sleepy mind, silencing stress and the morning symphony of birds. 

Bubbles, then reflective, blue silence, filled my eyes and ears 

as the underwater world painted the sky.

This reflective world is my escape; it is the place I go to relax, where I capture colors, feelings, and patterns in the invisible sky. The springs are my canvas and water is my obsession - what does water mean to you? Today, World Water Day, is the perfect time to take a break and share a few photos and musings on the subject of this seemingly ubiquitous, yet coveted, liquid gold - and encourage you to do the same.

One of the may things that fascinates me about water is that 97% of the liquid freshwater on our planet is found beneath our feet. Here in Florida, 92% of the population relies on this invisible water as their main source of drinking water, but because it's hidden in aquifers, it is often out of sight, out of mind. Do you ever wonder what it looks like in the aquifer? Here's a little glimpse:

Post by Jenny Adler.

Invisible water isn't just below ground - in fact, if all of the water vapor in the earth's atmosphere were in liquid form, it would cover the earth in about an inch of water. Anyway, these facts, stats, and thoughts are just a few of many water-related ideas that have been flowing through my mind over the past few weeks as I've been working on several stories that have to do with the aquifer and springs.

But I know that not everybody spends this much time obsessively thinking about water... So, one of my goals is to share views from underwater places that people may never get the chance to experience for themselves - and to share unique views from places people have visited... views that seem to bend reality and invite you to explore. In some small way, I hope these photos help people fall in love with our precious springs and become inspired to learn more, or perhaps decide to take the plunge and experience the underwater world for themselves.

Jacques Cousteau’s famous words “we protect what we love” are ringing in my head. If we can raise a generation that loves springs and cherishes our water and the creatures that live in it, we will have done something truly revolutionary and amazing... So don’t take water for granted - World Water Day should be every day - but at least for today, think about what water means to you and share it with others: inspire your friends and family, neighbors and coworkers, to better understand how important water is to them personally and our society as a whole.

Walking on water at Seven Sisters.

More water walking on the Ichetucknee.

As for recent adventures, Greg and I have been walking on water, exploring the Chaz and the Ichetucknee on our new inflatable standup paddle boards. I've been spending an equal amount of time in the caves (and much more time reading/on the computer/in classes) and am excited to share a cave diving story via a short video very soon.

Anyway, despite the alarming water headlines that have been dominating the news, from the opposite coast in California to right here in Florida, there is still a lot of beauty to cherish. Even if it is beauty in the breakdown. Realizing that there is still so much left that is worth protecting (and much more to explore!) gives us an even greater reason to seriously think about how our everyday actions affect our precious water. And of course the best place to reflect on these ideas is to dive in and experience the undeniable joy and connection we feel when we are embraced by blue...

Happy World Water Day! 

Guest blog post for UF PIE Center: Survey shows disconnect between water research, public

Post by Jennifer Adler Photography.

How to hide from the rain

The sky sounded hungry. 

A few half-hearted grumbles warned of thunder somewhere in the distance, but we were safe and ready to escape the rain. As if by magic, the dreary, grey sky gave way to blue, but the rain did not subside. Out of reach of the raindrops, I slowly submerged, feeling the first trickle of chilly spring water sneak through the zipper onto the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine.

The empty spring basin is reminiscent of a distant, watery planet in another galaxy. Bare limestone and fallen logs create a far away feeling as the sound of escaping bubbles fills my ears. In the empty silence between the each breath, I can barely make out the swishing sound of the raindrops in the dancing, shimmering sky overhead. Raindrops are plunging towards me, but they cannot reach me as my watery world wraps me up like a blanket.

I leave the dancing sky to enter the cavern, where the sky turns to limestone rock. Bubbles escaping to the surface are trapped in what appear to be upside down, reflective lakes. They create the illusion that the surface is not too far away. Which way is up?

#reflections in my favorite underwater world ✌️💙💧#Waterlust #bluemind #cavediving #cavedivergirl #underwater #aquifer #springaday #mermaidlife #Illusions #ikelite

A photo posted by Jenny Adler (@jmadler) on Jan 24, 2015 at 7:20pm PST

The dim light from the two openings to the cavern creates an evening ambiance. All of a sudden it feels like dusk, and there is just enough light to drift towards the back of the cavern with a few effortless fin kicks. I peer over the drop-off to see Harry gliding 30 feet below. He is a dark shadow hovering near the grate, moving small lights around to paint the once-black walls with vibrant shades of greens, blues, and yellows. There appear to be fireflies at the back of the cavern as he moves around the small lights to set up the shot. But with the flick of a switch, it’s no longer nighttime in the cavern – it’s as if the sun has just risen. The whole back wall is illuminated and the cavern comes alive.

We move the lights to another part of the cavern where the reflective pools on the ceiling act as mirrors. A back corner of the cavern that was hidden in the black abyss is now full of illusions and brilliant blues.

And as we turn off the lights and make our way towards the entrance, it once again appears to be the middle of the night. The driving rain can easily be mistaken for one of the most beautiful arrays of stars I have ever seen, twinkling in a moonlit sky.

But when we surface, the sky is again grey and although the sun has not set, it is invisible, along with the stars that glowed in the sky only moments ago.

Beacon of hope for our springs?

Photos from our dive: "To escape the rain..." by Jennifer Adler Photography

~~~~

This unforgettable afternoon of diving in the rain was absolutely gorgeous, but midway through writing this post, I shared a few of my photos on Ginnie Spring's Facebook page and found this historic photo. One of the biggest fears held by the people who experienced the springs in their former glory (and even people who can see some of the more pristine springs today) is that future generations will not understand or get to appreciate what a healthy spring is supposed to look like. (In fact, some people would argue it's already too late and that all springs have degraded). This idea is embraced in biology and ecology as "shifting baselines." These two photos, 44 years apart, will give you an idea of what I mean...

The entrance to the Ginnie Ballroom in 1971 - photo by Greg Fight. Ginnie Springs posted this on their Facebook page for "Flashback Friday" on 1/22/15.

...and 44 years later, the white box in the photo below, once filled with lush, green, native submerged aquatic vegetation, is a gorgeous blue void with no trace of the past:

The entrance to the Ginnie Ballroom in January 2015. The white box is the approximate location of the 1971 photo by Greg Fight. It's safe to say I didn't miss the vegetation by cropping my photo...
Is it too late to save our springs? And what is this saying about our groundwater (aka drinking water supply)?