Finding Light When Everything Feels Dark

Earlier this month, my partner Mick and I visited my brother and sister-in-law in Cape Coral, Florida, where they escape from Minnesota winters. We spent a few days there, sneaking time in between the days we provide childcare for our granddaughter Maeve. 

While there, we discussed current affairs, of course. None of us likes what’s happening in the United States and all of us are worried, worried, worried about what’s to come. We limited this particular conversation so it wouldn’t take over our entire time together – even though that would have been easy to do.  

For our days together, we spent time in a few places where the environment is honored and preserved. Specifically, that meant an eco-tour at Babcock Ranch and many hours spent meandering through Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. Time with nature always strengthens me both mentally and physically, building my resilience and deepening my gratitude for the beauty of life on this planet. It also reinforces my resolve to protect the natural gifts we have left in this country no matter who is in power. We will all suffer if natural places are left open to damage from those for whom making a profit on development, mining, drilling, and other environment-shattering businesses is their only motivation to do anything.

Today, I’m going to share the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary photos. May they help your state of mind, too.

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Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is a more than 13,000-acre sanctuary managed by the National Audubon Society in the western part of the Florida Everglades. On a recent Saturday morning, Mick and I, along with my brother and sister-in-law, spent several hours exploring the boardwalk and overlooks throughout the sanctuary. We marveled at the multitude of birds, alligators, snakes, frogs, anoles, turtles, cypress, pickerelweed blooms, strangler figs, air plants, Spanish moss, alligator flag, and so much more. 

And there was the quiet. Signs along the boardwalk ask visitors to be quiet; sound carries a long way among the cypress. When people are quiet, the animals talk. Water laps. Grasses crackle. Wind sighs. So many sounds that we pass over in our daily lives offer another conversation, one that is soothing. One that has existed since the beginning.

We started our visit in the fog. By late morning, the sun burned most of it away. Water droplets outlined spider webs, pine needles, grass blades. 

At first, we could hear a lot of birds but couldn’t find them in spite of the binoculars we rented from the reception desk at the visitor’s center. But, by taking our time, we figured out where to look, what to look for, how to pay attention to movement in the vegetation and water. We were impressed that most of the other visitors that day were respectful, quiet, also there to immerse themselves in this magical place and listen to what it had to say.

As we moved through the swamp, I thought about how misunderstood swamps are, how people sometimes equate them with something awful – swamps, morasses, cesspools. But this place teems with life, with interdependent systems of support that plants and animals have woven together for centuries. My brother spotted a gorgeous black snake. My sister-in-law spotted the one frog we could see. Mick and I stumbled on a little sign the indicated a barred owl was sitting in a tree straight out in front of a bend in the trail. We marveled at the strangler figs, how they hugged other trees, made intricate designs with their limbs.

I am not much of a bird photographer, so cannot offer a decent shot of the barred owl we saw, but I can tell you that the delight that bird, camouflaged on a tree limb quite a way from the trail, offered the people who spotted it was immense. Same for the alligators sunning themselves well away from where people could touch them. I saw several visitors with giant telephoto lenses, eager to capture a frame or two of one of the many birds who live in the sanctuary. The desire of so many to take some token of the beauty and peace of this place with them was starkly evident.

To be quiet and listen to what nature has to say is never a mistake. There is so much more to living on this planet than a monetary bottom line or a political gain by any means necessary. I’d rather listen to what the swamp has to say than turn on the news right now. But I won’t ignore what’s going on. These wild places are where I will catch my breath, gear up for the next thing to work toward.

all photos by kcmickelson 2025