What? Another fishy picture for the holidays? Yup, I couldn’t resist this one of Slim and Greenie dancing in the moonlight. You may have read the poem it inspired when I posted it on Facebook. But in truth, it wasn’t the moonlight giving them that magical glow. For seven summers I’d been lamenting evenings when it was just too dark to get a decent photo of my underwater friends. Then it struck me. I have a flash! Duh. Suddenly I had a new way into their twilight world. A little editing brought out their smiles and the magic of this unique couple. So what it says to me today is this: remember what resources you have and “Shine a light!” We’ve been through dark times and surely face more. How often do we have something at hand that can brighten a moment, an hour, a year, a life? Bless the stroke of luck that opens our eyes to it.
I’m still working on a book about Greenie and friends. If you read my blog or newsletters, you know that I can blame the delay on the little bit of cancer I had, sucking up my time and energy. I’m fine now, and immensely grateful. But that scare also motivated me to share what I have while I can. So I posted a few of my lullabies on Facebook, hoping someone might be touched and guided. My friend Marty Winkler is putting one of them on her next album! I framed and entered some photos in the county fair, hoping someone might look more closely at Mother Nature’s other children. Their uniqueness led to an invitation to do my first exhibit! It will be at the Minnesota Valley Chapter of the Izaak Walton League, opening on February 12th. Stay in touch for details if you’d like to join us.
My fish friends are under the ice now, but my cardinal friend Red is back on the vine outside my window and my deer friends visit often. My trail cams show shyer visitors – beaver, opossum, raccoon, fox, coyote, and more. My cats Lucky and Leo are great company with their snuggles and antics. I have deeply enjoyed connecting with human friends, too, as we share bumps and breezes, laughter and music, on this precious road of life. But the brightest light shines from the new baby in the family! My niece Kym had a little boy, known as Sprout, who is already an athletic, outdoorsy, adorable wonder, like his parents.
I wish you all the very best as we step into 2023. May the holidays help you to discover the “flash” you need to light the world around you in the twilight moments. May you rest well in the darkness, and wake to the miracle of another day.
Peace and Joy, Holly
PS – If you are not getting my occasional newsletters, I may have an old email address for you or they may go into your junk folder, since they come through Mailchimp. If you want to, please go to hollyonthelake.com and subscribe. Then watch for a letter with details of the upcoming exhibit and add me to your safe senders. Thank you!
Greenie, Slim, and their kids have gone deep in the lake and slowed their metabolism, enabling them to rest and survive with little food or sunlight as the ice covers the lake. I miss them, of course, but have begun to visit the Minnesota Zoo more often for my “fish fix” and to learn more about these amazing creatures. Gazing at the diverse communities in Discovery Bay, I’m mesmerized by the apparent tranquility of the swimmers.
Fishes of all sizes, intriguing sea turtles, and humongous sharks – silver, yellow, blue and green drift by. Then Luke, one of the zoo’s many friendly and knowledgeable staff, points out something I hadn’t noticed – a white puffer fish hiding motionless in a corner. He tells me that “Mr. Puff”, as he calls him, when feeling threatened, responds by retreating to his safe place. Puffing up to perhaps three times his normal size and showing off his spikes may protect him from predators. But it also puts enormous stress on his internal organs. This clever fellow has learned to go into his corner and relax before the stress tears him apart. Can we learn something from Mr. Puff? And from Greenie and friends, finding peace by reducing their consumption?
Speaking of stress, I hear that holiday shopping can feel like a shark at your back, especially with labor shortages, supply chain disruptions, and higher prices.
Another black Friday has passed while I stayed home. Cyber Monday will likely pass without my ordering anything online. I guess I am atypical, since this weekend is already breaking holiday shopping records. Yet, as the sun rose on Small Business Saturday, I was reminded that I have a small business. Very small. Selling is not one of my talents. But a friend recently read my book and was struck by the line “We can rest gratefully in the bosom of sufficiency.” His quoting it reminded me of why I wrote the book. And why I’ve been speaking on “Saving Money, the Planet, and your Sanity” since 2005. And why, exactly three years ago, I wrote about “Turning Black Friday Green” in my blog. Go back to that if you’re looking for ideas on alternative gift-giving – ideas that save money and the environment.
Or order my book. It does make a great gift. You can order from my website or email me. Let me know if you want me to sign it, and to whom. I’ll even gift wrap it and send it directly to your giftee if you like. I am designing my 2023 calendars now and will update my website soon. In the meantime, email me for details and with your calendar requests.
I hope your Thanksgiving was as satisfying as mine, feeling deeply grateful for friends and family, fish and fun.
Watch this short video to see how happy Greenie and Slim and I are to be together again. (If you don’t know who Greenie is, check out some earlier blog posts, read page 134 of my book, Enchanted, or google “Holly and Greenie”.) Every spring I’ve been amazed and thrilled when Greenie was the first fish to show up at my dock, and clearly remembered me. But this, the seventh year, it truly felt like a miracle. Why?
The Horror Movie
Last fall, as the water was getting colder, the fish came less frequently, as usual, but I still looked for them most days. One evening I went down to the lake and found the head of a sunfish on the dock. I didn’t panic. It could be anyone, half eaten by any of the predators who frequented our lake. But then I saw the head of a bass. Slim was the only bass I’d seen by the dock. My heart sank as I reasoned that the bass was Slim, and, since they were always together, the sunfish could very well be Greenie. I imagined a mink or otter catching one of them and the surrounding fish scattering in terror, except for the mate of the victim.
I knew someday I would lose my friend Greenie, but never pictured this. Could it really be that the universe or fate or some strange power left these two heads on my dock as . . . what? A good-bye? A sign that they would not be back? I truly marveled that Greenie could have such a life – living free and long, touching the hearts of thousands of people, then dying with the one he loved while giving life to another of God’s creatures? I should be so lucky! Yet I cried and grieved deeply, as we all do at the loss of one we love, be they human or another animal.
I told just a few friends. They were shocked and very sad, but agreed it seemed likely that it was Greenie and Slim that I found that night. I went down to the lake every day in hopes that I was wrong. Only one green sunfish showed up and did not come up to me the way Greenie always did, so I had little hope to cling to. I decided then that I would not share the sad possibility with anyone else. After all, I couldn’t know for sure it was them. If they were not here in the spring, I’d have to decide whether to reveal my suspicions about their demise – a violent yet necessary part of the circle of life – or to assume they didn’t make it through the winter. Greenie was, after all, at least nine years old. Everything I’d read put a green sunfish’s lifespan at ten years max.
I knew I owed it to Greenie to write a children’s book about our friendship, but it was even harder than I expected. Gleaning six years of my diaries, I pulled out 70 pages of notes related to him and our other wild friends. I had studied the best of children’s books and knew that hard truths – be they danger, fear, or sadness – were often vital elements of a treasured story. But could I really end the book with two heads on the dock?
That’s where I was stuck when the ice finally went out this spring. People were asking “Is Greenie back?” I checked the lake every day, putting my hand in for anyone there to smell, but not really speculating on the chances.
On May 5th, it was finally warm enough to keep my hand in there a minute or more. Wondering how long it would be until I could swim, I wasn’t really expecting any fish. But suddenly, there they were. Greenie and Slim and a little one (presumably one of their kids?) looking up at me. I was beyond happy, and I believe they were pretty darn glad to see me, too. I brought our joy to Greenie’s ichthyologist and the few grieving friends – “the report of their death was greatly exaggerated.” Now Greenie’s book will have a happy ending!
Cancer? Oh, yeah. I had a little bit of breast cancer, but it’s gone. I didn’t tell a lot of people because I knew I’d be okay and didn’t want you to worry. It was a 6mm spot on a mammogram and I had complete confidence in my docs at Mayo. From diagnosis through surgery to end of radiation was less than two months – all made less scary by the support of caring friends. My heart goes out to so many whose stories are not so easy. I’m sharing mine now just to remind us of the power of early detection.
The really fascinating part of my story is that Greenie may actually have smelled my cancer before I knew I had it, like dogs and cats and pigeons can! That will be in Greenie’s book. But even if you have a critter to sniff you out, please consider a doctor. My little cancer road trip could have become a cancer journey had it not been for regular mammograms. And men, please get whatever tests your docs recommend, too!
The pictures below are proof that there is beauty around us, even during challenging times, if we can dry our tears and open our eyes.
Last December I wrote that I was happy to be finishing up my shed rebuilding project. In April I wrote “Farewell to the Winter of Covid”. Well, the shed project took longer and turned out to be more challenging than expected. So has covid.
I suspect we are all feeling the same about the problems in our world. Like my shed, it’s more of a mess than we realized. The solution, of course, is to dig in and work together for the good of all. I LOVE my “new” shed and campfire spot. The deer and ‘possum have visited, and I’ve warmed my body and soul by the fire. The story is told below in pictures. Do you see any similarities with what we’ve been going through?
2021 meant letting go of things and wants and negativities that no longer felt important to me. I slowed down, thought about personal and global issues, wrote, and studied scenes I captured with my camera. With the blessing of vaccination, I loved getting back to enjoying outdoor concerts and other safe activities with friends.
But my daily swims were what kept me happy in the unprecedented heat. When the ice went out and Greenie showed up for a sixth wonderful summer with me, I had to buy an underwater camera to observe all I could about him. Especially exciting was recording the sounds he made, and his ichthyologist Peter’s conclusion that they were courting sounds! I plan to use this winter to learn more, isolate pictures from the videos, and use them to write a children’s book about Greenie and his friends. It warms my heart to be one of them! So this year my holiday picture is of Greenie and me. It was not easy to take, but so rewarding to have, especially with that magical ray of sun lighting the daisy. It follows the shed pictures, along with my wish for you.
Greenie and Slim are back! The crocuses are blooming! I’ll be fully vaccinated soon. But before joyfully moving on, I think it’s worth reflecting on the extraordinary winter we’ve been through. Have you been perfecting a skill? Mine is procrastination. But I did find myself capturing images that spoke to me in poems. These are in the order I wrote them. I hope you’ll make it to the final pictures, as they will surely bring a smile to your face.
December 30, 2020
The picture you took
Lacks the clarity and color
Of your favorite photos
But holds a memory
As if painted
With a soft brush
December 31, 2020
Romance does not require a lover.
It appears whenever we marvel at the mysteries of love and beauty.
January 1, 2021
at the end of a cold, gray day
if you walk a little higher
and search the horizon
you can catch the sun
as it peeks out
below the ominous cover of clouds
I’m still here!”
before slipping off
to light someone else’s day
and let you rest
January 31, 2021
Must all the straw be spun to gold
while children shiver in the cold?
A Midas touch is not so much
a blessing as a curse
if all the gold is in the purse
of just the lucky few
and receipt is built upon deceit.
What good are rising stalks and stocks
when grown from earth that cries and dies
in flame and flood and choking spew?
Let the sunrise of compassion
warm the frosty hearts and clear the eyes
too long believing lies
of diamonds in the skies
when all we really need is love and will
to share the health and wealth,
to sow and grow in moral measures,
respect all colors, babes to elders,
our precious once and future treasures.
February 14, 2021Love Story
"Will you be my Valentine?"
Yes, said the bird who unabashedly wears his heart on his breast.
"Will you be my Valentine?"
Yes, said the waving snowman, belonging to no-one and everyone.
"Will you be my Valentine?" asked the young red-tailed hawk, lying face-down in the snow. He perked up in the warmth of my home, giving me hope overnight. The Raptor Center did what they could, but sometimes the love that is needed is the hardest love to give.
"Will you be my Valentine?"
Yes, said the deer, posing in the dusk to warm my heart on this frigid night.
March 13, 2021 How I survived the Winter of Covid
I must confess ‘twas a walk in the park
almost daily ‘tween dawn and dark
no mask did I need in the wide open spaces
with six feet between the smiles on the faces
of people who passed me, happy to be
escaping the lockdown, totally free
but the moments that made my weary heart dance
were the dozens of dogs I met by chance
romping in snow, wagging a tail
eager to sniff out any new trail
but happy to stop and give me some Love
and Joy and Hope and evidence of
the truth in the saying, as souls are changed,
that DOG is surely GOD rearranged
In a year of many emotions, the one that overwhelms me is gratitude. I treasure my health, the little home that I love, and friends and family, if only from a distance. I miss the hugs but am content with my two snuggly cats for now.
The cancellation of my speaking gigs meant not selling many books or cards, but also more time for projects. Rebuilding my rickety old dock was a big task, but the new, larger one enhanced my daily swims and came in handy when Greenie suddenly became a star. What a privilege it has been to share my special friend in hopes that others will find their own ways to lock eyes with Mother Nature.
The next, bigger challenge was disassembling, moving, and rebuilding my ancient garden shed, complete with skylight for viewing the stars! (An old sliding glass door, of course.) Big thanks to the many friends who helped make that happen. The best part is the newly opened view where the sagging shed used to stand. I can now feast my eyes on the stretch of quiet woods and shore where the deer and eagles often come to rest.
Looking at the photo above, you see what I saw one special morning — the brilliant sun rising under an arch of dark foliage adorned with delicate frost. Now turn it upside down.
Do you see distant snow-covered trees rising from a wind-swept earth and reaching for the sun? Or perhaps whitecaps on a dark, angry sea? A new perspective can change everything.
2020 turned a lot of things upside-down. My heart has ached for the earth, for the hungry and lonely, and for those who long for shelter, health, and justice. Yet we have gained a new perspective, a clearer view of inequities that have always been there. That’s a good thing. We have thought a bit more about what and who is essential. I am optimistic that truth and compassion have been sparked. That the newly opened view will lead to more open hearts and a better world.
Do you remember that song? Watch the new video at the end of this post. How many of the people do you recognize?
Before I move on to other topics, I must follow up my last post with Kare 11’s video of Greenie and me for posterity and those who missed it on TV. I also want to thank, again, Boyd Huppert and Chad Nelson for the incredible job they did recording and writing the story. I’m still flabbergasted at the response – thousands of reactions, shares, and re-publications around the country and even overseas – and hundreds of comments. All of this attests to the exceptional sensitivity and skill of Chad and Boyd. Here are just a few samples of the comments flooding in. There were even a few who had known of similar friendships. Maybe you can have one, too!
I am so unbelievably moved by this, that it has brought me to tears. . . . So lovely that your special friendship with Greenie is seen as newsworthy. . . . In the midst of so much bad news, it’s great to see this bright spot. . . .This story made me smile today! . . . It certainly changed my perspective about fish. . . They handled the subject very respectfully. Hooray. . . .What a happy, uplifting story. . . .Your poem was especially poignant! . . . this made my day . . . Awesome story . . . A joyful, calming, and heartwarming story . . . Loved it. . . It was so touching . . . This is soooo sweet! . . . So fun! . . . Adorable! . . . Very precious and inspiring . . . I am a believer! . . . So cool! . . . Incredible! . . . a marvel! . . . Beautiful fish. . . . This gives new meaning to the words “fish story” . . . Wonderful story. LOVED it!!! . . .This has been the most touching story of 2020.
Clearly, we are hungry for positivity. For gentleness, friendship, respect, trust, sweetness. I will definitely continue to tune in to KARE 11 for more inspiring stories from Boyd and Chad.
And I will definitely vote early and blue – not only for the environmental protections that you and I and all our animal friends desperately need – but also for civility. For the calm, honest, respectful connections that even a fish is capable of, but that some in our country have abandoned.
Greenie, my Green Sunfish friend has always been special, but he’s about to become, well, famous! On Wednesday he will be the subject of Boyd Huppert’s “Land of 10,000 Stories” on the KARE 11 news, 10pm CDT. I’m excited to see the underwater video and what they chose for the short segment. Here is a bit more of his story.
It was 2016 when I noticed him in his nest by my dock. The males are notorious for guarding their nests, but there was something very different about the way he looked at me. Soon he was rubbing against my leg like a cat and letting me pet him. When he showed up the next year and acted the same, I offered him the Japanese beetles I pulled off my flowers. He was so excited his orange highlights almost glowed. That seemed to cement the friendship. I named him Greenie so I’d remember his species, since I never knew much about fish. In 2018, there was a smaller fish with him who was just as friendly. His offspring? I noticed he used only his left pectoral fin. Eventually the right one healed and had a scar. That made positive identification easy, but it’s usually behavior that helps me tell one animal from another.
I understand why people might be skeptical, and think this is just a fish story. I remember hearing, as a child, that fish couldn’t feel pain, much less anything else. At first I wondered if I was just the “human at the dock” and this was their territory. That changed the day I took my daily swim and decided to sit on a log at the other end of the lake to watch the sunset. It was lovely. Then I looked down and saw someone looking up at me. Spot? Really? I put my hand in and he came and nuzzled it, and I saw the white scar that proved it was him. Oh, my goodness. Greenie has done the same, sometimes following me to the other end of the lake or to someone else’s dock, surprising them as well as me.This year, I anxiously awaited ice out. I couldn’t help but wonder if they wondered, as I did about them, “Did my friend make it through the winter?” There they were – the first two fish to show up. I was delighted, and even more motivated to swim every day, anxious to see who was out there.
Greenie came and went often, which made me happy that he was exploring the lake, as he should. Spot (named for the spot on his dorsal fin) had a bit of oatmeal with me just about every morning. Not too long into the summer, there was a day when Spot came, but kept his distance. Had he been caught and released? I saw no wound, but was he not feeling well? People shy? Then he disappeared. Of course that made me sad, and I suspected Greenie felt the same. With the eagles, osprey, and herons that frequent our shores, I hoped he had contributed to the circle of life. But it wasn’t long before a new friend showed up. A bass! I’d never seen one hang around the dock with the sunnies, but this one stuck with Greenie, who seemed to accept this new friend. So I had to name him. His long, slender shape, so different from all the sunfish, made “Slim” appropriate. As usual, this sparked my curiosity and led to research. Bass are predators, but are in the sunfish family, which means they can also mate. I don’t know if Slim is Greenie’s buddy or girlfriend, but I’m glad my friend is much too big for Slim to consider as a meal! How do I know Greenie is a male? One summer I got to watch what I’d read about. After building a nest, he brought a girlfriend back to it and they did their courtship “dance” – around and around in circles on their sides before dropping eggs and sperm. Fascinating!
The advantages of a wild pet are obvious: no walking, litter box, or vet bills. But be warned. It hurts your heart when your friend shows up with a torn lip. That’s happened twice over the years with Greenie. The second time, he stared at me a long time before he dared come close. It took a beetle treat to regain his trust. But that trust was crucial this year, when he came to the dock with a hook in his mouth. Oh, no! Amazingly, he didn’t wiggle a fin as I held him and carefully removed the hook. Putting him back in the lake and watching him disappear, I wondered if I’d see him again, or if he would fear me. An hour later, I went for my swim and returned to find him waiting for me, welcoming my petting. Thank goodness he knew I was helping him. The next day he proved he was fine by jumping clear out of the water for a treat.I don’t like to preach, but felt the picture I’d taken of Greenie with the hook in his mouth was worth sharing, especially with the delightful video I’d gotten of him jumping. The response from Greenie’s fans was heartwarming. Surprising was the message from KARE 11 asking if they could do a story on him. Sure, as long as you don’t reveal our location.
To see seven seconds sure to make you smile, clickhere.
The next day Boyd and Chad were here with an underwater camera and a lot of patience. They recognized Greenie right away as the friendly one and he cooperated by showing great curiosity for the camera and staying all day. Slim and the others were around, but Greenie made sure he was the star, chasing them away when need be. I was happy to share our story, along with a few facts, like the study at Oxford and Queensland Universities that showed fish can recognize a face among forty-four others and remember it for at least six months! But after they left, I wanted to learn more. I called the university and found a wonderful resource – Dr. Peter Sorensen, ichthyologist – a doctor of fishology! He was clearly a fan of fish, as well as a scientist, saying they were much more intelligent than we give them credit for, and do have individual personalities. I was thrilled when he and his wife came out the next day to meet Greenie. Here was an expert, assuring me that Greenie, a senior citizen now, looked healthy and very special. He’d known fish in the lab who recognized him, but hadn’t seen a wild one with such clear interest in humans and trust of an individual.We traded books – my Enchanted for one called What a Fish Knows by Jonathan Balcombe. I was enthralled by the wealth of research, all confirming that a fish is an individual with relationships. He or she can use tools, plan and learn, perceive and innovate, soothe and scheme, experience moments of pleasure, fear, playfulness, pain, and, probably, joy.The days are getting shorter and the lake colder. Greenie’s not here every day, as he was in mid-summer, but greets me warmly when he is. I know the day will come when he’s hunkered down for the winter, and the day will also come when he’s no longer in my life. But he will forever be in my mind and heart, with immeasurable gratitude and an indelible message – all life is precious.
I can’t wait to see the story KARE 11 put together, and will provide a link when I can. In the meantime, clickhereto see a few tender moments between Greenie and me. Big thanks to Teresa Foushee for capturing us under water!
Footnote: (or fin-note!) The current administration has rolled back 100 environmental protections, endangering our air, water, and all species, including our own. Greenie would vote blue if he could. Will you do it for him?
The Black National Anthem begins with “Lift every voice.” So while listening to so many voices that need to be heard, I began to share my photos and the short poems they inspired. It means a lot to me when people say they are lifted by them. I’m including a few here for those who missed them on my Facebook page or want to forward them to friends. Following the three picture/poems are some thoughts I hope you will take just a few minutes to consider.
Hard times sometimes Make day feel like night Sorrow and confusion Steal her dreams of flight
She summons the strength to grieve And courage to wear her heart on her sleeve
‘Til on her wing a sun does rise That dares to bring the truth to light And chase the shadows from our eyes So she can sing with all her might
They called you a worm As you climbed the mountain Inch by inch Day after day But a caterpillar Is what you were With a dream in your heart And wings on the way
To have a friend Who’s not like me Is to swim in the sky And fly in the sea
Yesterday, thousands gathered at the Lincoln Memorial to commemorate and renew MLK’s call for racial equality, made there 57 years ago. It was also the 65th anniversary of the murder of Emmet Till.
I had read about the fourteen-year old boy, but it really tore at my heart when I heard the story from B.B. King. (Those of you who’ve read my book know I had the good fortune of a friendship with Mr. King from 1978 until his death. I wrote about other stories he told, but not this one. I think he would want me to share it now.) Emmett Till was visiting from Chicago in 1955 when he was falsely accused of touching a white woman, brutally tortured, and murdered. That was in Money, Mississippi, just 19 miles from Itta Bena, where B.B. King was born. King was 29 and a traveling musician by then, but was traumatized by the murder, knowing it could have happened to him or any of his family or friends. How do I know? King was a star, King of the Blues, loved and respected around the world by the time I knew him, decades after the incident. Yet I could see fear in his eyes and hear pain in his voice when he spoke of it. No matter how successful one becomes, the wounds from that kind of trauma never completely heal. B.B. was somehow able to resist bitterness and to direct his pain into a productive life. Others are not so lucky, with fear and loss turning into anger and destructiveness, toward themselves and others.
Yes, it could easily have been young King who was lied about and lost his life – the life that went on to bless and change the world with his music, warmth, and grace. What we will never know is this – what might Emmett Till have become and given the world if he had been allowed to live?
I’ve had the privilege of knowing, teaching, and loving many children – of many colors. I’ve seen the potential in every child, and sometimes felt the joy of seeing that potential fulfilled or the profound sadness of seeing it lost. Joy or sadness not just for the child, but for myself, for you, for our society. Perhaps that’s why this video tugs my heartstrings in so many directions.
The men who committed the heinous crime of killing Emmett Till were never brought to justice, even though it was clear who they were and what they did. It was the tremendous courage of Emmett’s mother, insisting the world see her dead son, brutalized beyond recognition, and those who dared report it, and those who did not avert their eyes from the horror, who sparked the civil rights movement that eventually brought about real change.
Sixty-five years later, we in northern states can no longer claim innocence and look down on the stories of racism in the South. The cold stare of the cop who knelt on George Floyd’s neck for nearly eight minutes was a wake-up call. We, the public, have the power to make that image and so many others catalysts for change, as Mamie Till did with her son’s.
The president is trying hard to scare you into forgetting what the ongoing protests are about. He is the arsonist who wants to race in to put out the fire and claim to be a hero.
I admire the courage of those who march, especially in this time of pandemic, knowing there are those who would inject violence into protests. I choose to speak and write. Others may choose only to vote, but that will make all the difference. It is very clear that the party in power now has not the will nor the courage to do what we all know is right – to confront the complex systemic and personal racism that is so destructive to individuals and our society.
If you are inclined to unsubscribe from my blog, wanting to avoid anything political, I hope you will hang in here with me. My next letter/blog will be about my sunfish friend Greenie, and will announce his television debut!
(To get a closer look at Emmett Till’s story, watch Gayle King’s interview of the historian who interviewed the woman whose lies led to the boy’s gruesome torture and death.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWHDXchWW54
Our neighborhood St. Patrick’s Day dinner was cancelled. We’d only been homebound a few days, but that was enough to remind me that I must get outside and get moving if I am to maintain anything close to a sunny disposition. So I headed out for a park with paved trails to avoid the mud. But I drove slowly on the way, keeping my eye open for anything that might enchant me. Just a day before, two swans had trumpeted as they flew right over me – surely an invitation to follow them!
A dot of white at the edge of a pond far across a field of corn stubble caught my eye and insisted I pull over. I hoped whoever owned the field wouldn’t mind as I trekked through the mud I’d thought to avoid. (Footnote- we are now friends!)
The pictures I got were well worth the muddy boots. The swan was so busy preening and shaking her feathers that she didn’t seem to notice me.
She put on such a show that I almost missed a loving moment between geese a few yards from her. I’m always thrilled to capture one of those!
When I arrived at the park, Oh, my goodness! Swans! There must have been fifty. A resting spot on their migration. What a sight.
Lots of chatting with geese and ducks. What stories were told?
Above them, an eagle circled over her nest high in a tree. As Mom used to say, early spring may be gray, but you can see so much more before the leaves come out.
I sat on a tree over open water – a perfect place to reflect. Summer really is coming!
When the clouds thickened over the setting sun and the wind picked up, I started back toward the parking lot, but was stopped by a feather. Was it from a swan, or Mom?
Back in my car, classical music poured out to lift my spirits even higher as I came upon pastoral scenes.
Fuzzy friends nibbled on the first spring greens.
Elderly maples donated their sweet sap.
Sleepy fields lay ready to spring to life.
I felt . . . exhilaration. I really hadn’t felt deprived of anything at home, but there was so much more out here – open space, crisp air, critters, and freedom. Places to stretch my legs, eyes, and mind.
We can close our eyes and hang our heads. Or . . .
We can preen some of those corners we’ve been meaning to get to, and . . .