Haunted Amber

Standard

“It has taken millions of years to make this beautiful thing,” says our guide, her voice soft with the lilt of the islands. “Imagine—a tree dripped down resin so many, many years ago, and look!”

In her hand lies an oval of amber. It catches the light so subtly that it seems to glow with an inner fire. We look at it in admiration, for here in the CaribbeanWorldAmberMuseum there is much to enchant. All around us lie encased amber specimens from all over the world: honey-gold specimens from the Baltic, deep red pieces from Yucatan. Our guide explains that some pieces of amber are 250,000,000 years old. “We don’t have any such pieces here,” she hastens to add, “but those old pieces come from Bavaria. And… do you know that there has been amber found in your own state? Yes, in North Carolina! Pieces that date back to the Miocene.”

We have stumbled into the AmberMuseum by accident. On a Caribbean cruise that has taken us out of touch with the world for two weeks, we have been visiting Blackbeard’s castle and have been wandering from one small museum to another on the way to the street far below.

I for one am delighted. I’m not sure what my fascination with amber comes from—certainly not from the fossilized insects that many pieces contain. Perhaps my interest stems from the fact that the lovely object I hold in my hand was many millennia ago the life-blood of a tree. Perhaps that is what gives it its mystique, makes it seem alive.

Voices of the past

Captured in this silken orb

Shadows, memories.

Our guide has a spark of mischief in her dark eyes. “Look at this,” she says, and offers a magnifying glass. Mike takes a look first, bursts out laughing as he hands me the glass. It can’t be, but… oh, yes it can.

“A cockroach?” There is a perfect specimen of that loathsome insect encased forever in a prism of Baltic amber. The museum attendant giggles at the face I make.

“Yes… can you believe it? But,” she adds with a shudder, “I would never want to wear that piece.”

She leads us to another case which displays  pale green ovals, circles and squares formed into rings, brooches, pendants. “Caribbean amber,” our attendant says, “This type of amber was only discovered very recently—only ten years ago.” I ask about the soft, almost translucent color and she explains that this is because of contact with volcanic action.

“Amber takes its color from a number of things,” she says and holds up a long oval tube that is the color of cream and just as opaque. “Water,” she says. “This amber came in contact with a lot of water.”

We have reached the front of the museum, and our guide points out that almost everything in the museum is for sale. Mike picks up a large chunk of amber which is as thick and as wide as a man’s palm. It hangs on a thick golden chain. “Isn’t it a gorgeous thing?” She asks. “It’s priced cheaply–for $1,800.”

Mike moves the piece to catch the light. “Look… can you see a face?”

We—our guide and I—lean closer. Sure enough, there in the honeyed depths of the gem is the smoky caricature of a human face. Mike moves it again, and another face—a different one—appears.

Our guide sucks in a breath. “Maybe it’s haunted,” Mike jokes. I laugh, but  our guide doesn’t.

“I never saw that before,” she says in an awed voice.

Of course these are shadows caused by oxidation and polymerization and the countless years that have passed in order to form tree sap into a thing of beauty. Still, the writer in me is intrigued. Where did they come from, these ghost-pictures? What stirred the pine sap as it settled? Where did this piece of amber lie while the earth cooled and the great, glowing sun and the huge pale moon looked down on a world which we will never know?

The thoughts stay with me as we leave the museum, and here awaits the piece de resistance… an amber waterfall! Water trickles slowly over a wall studded with chunks of every kind of amber. White, red, green, golden… each hoarding within itself a fragment of our world’s history.

 066

 

Advertisements

About Maureen C. Wartski

I’m Maureen Wartski, writer, artist, wife, mother, grandmother; you can see that I have many of the bases covered. I was born in Ashiya, Japan, a (then) small town which lay cradled between sea and mountains. In the evenings, we would walk along the road that ran past Osaka Bay, and a great moon would rise out of the water to turn the world to silver. I’m told that my first words were, “Big moon!” All my life I have felt the tug to write something, draw something, put together something with fabric, string and color, and the urge to create has grown through the years. I suppose, then, that it’s a natural thing that this blog be full of the things that so many of you enjoy doing…drawing, making something with fabric, and writing. Yuri's Brush with Magic, my newest book for middle schoolers follows the adventures of a brother and sister, the magic of words, and the incredible magic of the natural world. I'd love to hear from you! You can send me a note at: maureen@wartski.org/ My blog is here: https://maureenwartski.wordpress.com/ Or friend me on Facebook!

4 responses »

  1. Maureen,
    What a great discovery and adventure. I enjoyed learning about the amber jewels and how varied their colors are. I can almost hear the trickle of the amber waterfall. Thanks for the soothing lullaby before bedtime.

  2. What memories you evoke with your amber discoveries and the Caribbean experience! The connection to our world’s early explosive beginnings also ties us to that which we can only imagine. As we consider our own limited individual presence on our home planet, we can take heart in the lovely appreciation of the gifts that nature provides (even a cockroach encased in amber). Thank you once again my literary friend for helping us to see what is all too easy to miss.

    • I never knew that there was such a thing as Caribbean amber. It’s the most subtle shade of green… almost water-green. Of course, I had to acquire a small piece! But the cockroach was…. beautifully preserved and all… pretty nasty!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s