Blustery March along the lake, bundled to my teeth for a walk Sunday afternoon, when what I thought I really wanted was to sink into the couch with the NYTimes. Glad as always that I opted to leave the house. Why is it sometimes so hard?
It wasn't until I was reviewing my photos that I saw that an eagle had passed before my viewfinder. I consider an eagle sighting to be a gift of good fortune, and I'm counting this as a sighting, blurred and dim as it is --
Shoreline --
I was looking for a beavers' lodge that's supposed to exist just past the marina, but could find no trace of it as I slipped quietly through the reeds and red twig dogwoods. I want to believe that it does indeed exist, and that perhaps I'll never find it.
In 1965, the several-acre wood behind my house contained every bit of my imagination. And even though I knew intimately every path, tree, boulder, stump, fern and lily, I never gave up believing that somewhere there existed a hidden reliquary of water, a well of holy secrets that would never give itself away.
I believe that Beavers have been re-introduced into the UK recently. Some are happy; others not.
ReplyDeleteWhere I live is so densely wooded that I somehow imagine that if I walk deeper into uncharted parts, I might discover a long lost abandoned chateau. As yet nothing...
Your photos are always so lovely -- there's something very "you" about them. And I believe that is definitely a sighting.
ReplyDeleteCro, does the "some are happy, others not" refer to the beavers or the humans?!
ReplyDeleteElizabeth, your words make me happy.
ReplyDeletexo
Lovely photos and you even have blooms on the trees already. Sigh.
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