Caribbean Blues

A aerial view en route from Miami to the Dominican Republic

“We all have one idea of what the color blue is, but pressed to describe it specifically, there are so many ways: the ocean, lapis lazuli, the sky, someone’s eyes. Our definitions are as different as we are ourselves.” — Sarah Dessen

It is said that a word can never fully describe the full scope of what it is intended to represent. To say that the Caribbean Ocean shifts through varying hues of turquoise is a completely inadequate way of describing the spectrum of colors embodied in these waters.

Upon departing from Miami, en route to the Dominican Republic, we burst through the vault of sky to a height where we could see both the curve of the earth and the plateaus and troughs of the sea, tinted an infinite number of blues defined sheerly by the nature of the number of water molecules swimming between the surface and the sandy floor.

Initially, we traced a route over a series of long, thin islands, some inhabited, some not. But, all wore a ribbon of midday sky around their edges. Abruptly, just past this warm, shallow band, the sea shelf plummeted, and the waters melted into the color of indigo calligraphy ink.

A horse shoe-shaped ring of tiny islands barely crested the waves. The white sands, at their feet, drifted in soft plumes out into the shallow waters.

The demarcation between the shelf of shallow waters and the drop-off into the depths was abrupt and dramatic.

In places, if you squinted your eyes “just so,” you could almost imagine you were looking through a lens, tinted the color of the sky, down upon sand dunes rippling across a vast desert.

Billowing sand drifted just beneath the shallow waters.

In Cerillos, Arizona, there is a turquoise mine which yields the purest green-blue stone, which the ancients called “sky stone.” I think, perhaps, it should be called “Caribbean Shallows” stone.

What caused the sea to form this shallow bowl in the midst of the depths of the sea? Was it just Nature’s way of “decorating” the landscape? I can almost imagine the Goddess with her paint palette, thinking, “a touch more Cerillos turquoise here,” and, “a pinch of midnight here.”

Again, no land demarcates the distinction between the mid-afternoon blue bowl and the sunset-shadowed depths which cradle it.

And above those tranquil waters, fleecy clouds drifted aimlessly, casting their shadows upon the mirror of the sea.

At the edge of the island, a bit of the rich soil escaped into the edge of the sea, blurring the distinction between water and land.

Windmills swirled in the breeze.

And then we caught a glimpse of the verdant, lush mountains and valleys, patch-worked with small farms. But pretty much everywhere we went on the island, you could still see those turquoise waters.

I hope that you enjoyed this “virtual journey” across the Caribbean.

You might also enjoy some of my favorite shots of earth’s creatures:

Or this first moment of spring:

Or this breath of respite in a spring storm:

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

Poem and photos ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.