Two weeks ago, I got in a car alone at 11:30 at night and drove 15 straight hours to the Gulf. Today, I saw proof that the thick, black oil has hit the marshes I was just in, touring the tiny water pathways in a boat built by the hands of the sweet, simple man steering it. He showed me the wreckage of his Grandparents’ house, never rebuilt after Katrina, the place where the school boat picked him up every morning to take him to shore with all the kids from his neighborhood, the best fishing spot – lined with dark craggy rocks – where a pod of dolphins playfully jumped out of the water in front of the boat. We saw pelicans, alligators, cranes, delicate lacey flowers, cypress knees and rows and rows of shrimp boats that should have been out working, docked like skeletons in the bright sun of the sourthern morning.
I took photos and videos, but I lost them. All of the grasses and rich green foliage there will be dead within a week.
My heart just split in two.
Little Skies... 
Jane, Your writing is as descriptive and thought provoking as your photos. I’m so sorry you lost your photos! And you have made the oil spill so real to me. Thanks for going down, and for sharing this unique experience with all of us in such special way.
Thank you, Pat!! That means a whole lot coming from someone who is constantly being exposed to excellent writing from their own family. It feels ironic and poetic that the photos were lost; It makes the loss of the marsh that much more real to me.
Anyhow, wonderful photos are being taken and have been taken of the area by people with better access and equipment, who are much more experienced in wildlife photography than I.