The Pelican Island Audubon Society will publish Reflections of Blue Cypress Photographs, History, and Poems of the Headwater Lake of the St. Johns River. Second Edition authored by Dr. Richard H. and Dr. Juanita N. Baker. The book provides a reflective and artistic perspective of Blue Cypress Lake today, taking readers on a journey to one of Florida's natural treasures. Since 1990, the Bakers have visited Blue Cypress Lake many times, often spending the night listening to a steady chorus of frogs and an occasional owl and gator. Rising before the sun, they witnessed the early changing light, and photographed and savored each moment on the lake. Their book includes photographs and poems, and provides a vivid and factual account of the lake's history. By publishing Reflections of Blue Cypress, Baker's beautiful tribute to people everywhere who are interested in wildlife, conservation, natural history, photography, or experiencing a Florida special place, Audubon hopes to: 1 Enhance awareness of the unique natural environment of Indian River County, Florida 2 Advocate preserving what is left of our remaining precious habitat and native species 3 Illustrate the delicate balance of nature and the tremendous impact that even slight human influences can have 4 Describe the unique circumstances that have preserved this lake, encouraging us to take action immediately to make a difference 5 Increase public awareness of our chapter's goals 6 Raise funds to support the chapter's education and environmental activities Audubon is honored to have Dr. George Schaller of the Wilderness Conservation Society write the forward for the book. George Schaller's studies in Africa, the Himalayas, Tibet, China, and South America have been the bases for his numerous scientific and popular writings. The winner of several awards, including the National Book award, he has authored 15 books, including The Serengeti Lion, Stones of Silence, The Year of the Gorilla, and The Last Panda. The Pelican Island Audubon Society is a local chapter of the National Audubon Society dedicated to the preservation and protection of animals, plants, and natural communities in Indian River County through advocacy, education, and public awareness.

'This valedictory volume is the quintessence of [Alan] Ross, a deft and deceptively airy set of literary wanderings through a part of the Mediterranean - the islands of the south-western coast of Italy - he had known since being demobilised from the Royal Navy at the end of the Second World War... Ross's memoir is a showcase for a supremely poetic sensibility, and a naturally gifted writer with an unerring eye for detail, reporting on his experience with an infectiously joyous lyricism.' Eldon King, Observer 'A fund of associative literary information that could only have been amassed by a passionate reader. Gorky, Ibsen, Rilke, DH Lawrence, Walter Benjamin, Pablo Neruda and scores more wrote in or near Ischia; Ross describes their books and their lives with detailed succinctness, en route dipping in and out of his own thoughts and travel observations.' Helen Simpson, Guardian

In this book, for the first time, we can hear the startling, moving voices of adventurous and rebellious Japanese women as they eloquently challenged the social repression of prewar Japan. The extraordinary women whose memoirs, recollections, and essays are presented here constitute a strong current in the history of modern Japanese life from the 1880s to the outbreak of the Pacific War.

The cool spring dusk fell drowsy and soft over Sandy Island, all but blotting out a log cabin that nestled under great moss-hung oaks close to the river’s edge. The small drab weather-stained house would scarcely have shown except for the fire that burned inside, sending a bright glow through its wide-open door and showers of sparks up its short stick-and-clay chimney. A gaunt, elderly black man strode hastily toward it along the path leading up from the river and went inside, but in a few minutes he came to stand in the doorway, his bulk well-nigh filling it as one broad shoulder leaned dejectedly against the lintel. When a moan came from inside, his brawny hands clenched and buckled in a foolish helpless way, and a frown knitted his forehead as he cast a glance at the old black woman who pattered back and forth from the hearth to the bed in the corner with a cupful of root-tea or a bit of hot grease in a spoon or a pinch of salt in the palm of her hand. Once in a while she called to him that everything was going well. To-morrow this same girl would laugh at all these groans and tears. Birthing a child is tough work. He must have patience. Long patience. Nobody can hurry a slow-coming child. The fire crackled and leaped higher, lighting the dirt-daubed cracks of the walls, shining under the bed where it played over the freshly sharpened point of a plow-share. A share ground and filed and put under a bed is the best thing in the world to cut birth-pains, but this one lagged with its work. Its clean edge glittered bright enough, yet as time dragged on the pains lingered and the expected child tarried with its coming. The moon must be to blame. This new moon was right for planting seed but wrong for birthing. Swift labor comes with a waning moon, not a growing one. The man heaved a deep sigh and looked out into the gathering twilight. The slender young moon was dropping fast. This birthing ought to get over. When the river’s tide turned, life could go out mighty quickly. Ebb tide is a dangerous time for sick people. Old Granny was too slow. Too easy-going. When this same girl was born sixteen years ago, or was it seventeen, Granny had a long race with Death and lost, yet here she was poking around with her roots and teas, trifling away the time. “Granny,” he stopped to clear the huskiness out of his throat, “better make haste. De tide’ll soon turn. Ebb tide ain’ to be trusted, you know.”

Black April, the foreman of Blue Brook Plantation, must confront his own mortality and the tragic consequence of human desire in this simple tale of black country life in coastal South Carolina.