It's cloudy this morning, the risen sun muted behind a heavy overcast thick as an old wool sock. The river is dark in the dim, flat light, not green but something of a tarnished gray, like old pewter that's badly in need of a polishing.
We're supposed to get rain starting early this evening and more rain over the next few days. Not particularly cold, though—the highs for today and tomorrow in the mid-60s˚F, the 50s on Tuesday, and still only down in the mid-40s Wednesday and Thursday, at which point the sun is predicted to reappear. Not bad for the middle of November in Ohio; I remember plenty of years when we'd already had a snow or two by this point on the calendar—some years a substantial snow.
If I've learned anything about weather over the years, it's that you'd best accept what you have and try not to grumble because it can always get worse.
I've been watching a great blue heron fishing in a riffle below the cottage. So far it has taken three small fish—minnows, really—plus a fourth about the size of my opened palm. This latter fish took some maneuvering to get properly placed in the mouth, head pointed down the gullet, before being subsequently swallowed. Prior to starting the procedure, the big bird waded to the very edge of the rocky shallows, I presume as a safety measure should his hard-won catch get accidentally dropped.
After eating the largest fish, the heron hopped up onto a large log that's down along the edge of the shallows. It's behavior I've noticed often—following a more substantial meal, a heron will often take a rest a bit away from the water. Sometimes this is on a handy log or rock, or they amble a dozen feet up the bank into the edge of the woods on the island; at other times they might choose a low overhanging limb, or occasionally, a limb that's 30-40 feet above the ground.
I know the feeling—more than once I've sidled lethargically away from a supper table after consuming an overly hearty meal, found a comfortable seat nearby, and spent some time in pleasurable discomfort contemplating this latest overindulgence. That old heron and I share more in common than just a love for rivers and fishing….
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14 comments:
HEY GRIZZ - great picture of a calm river and peaceful natural traditions along the river- I love how you identify with the habits of God's wild life creatures. There is something so harmonious about that.
Our weather is a bit mild too, 50ish, rain coming through Tuesday then cooler and dryer. We are taking Gracey-Blue out later - just for a ride and stop by the lake for her to have a run and always a swim, in all temps! We bring a big towel for her. She loves to swim. We love the peacefulness of the lake this time of year - it is quite desolate so we have it all to ourselves. And we always get her burger from some fast food place too. She is SO spoiled :-), as am I. :-)
Love to you and yours, Happy Sunday
Gail
peace.....
p.s. How is Moon?
Wonderful pictures - especially the way the colours stand out yet blend with each other all at the same time. Very tranquil.
Thank you for those words words and attitude. Though there world be some who say I anthropomorphize. Yet I see birds and animals of all sorts, not as living specimens to be studied in a coldly scientific way, but as fellow creatures on this beautiful blue-green world. Not just thoughtless reactionary beasts, but possessors of character and emotion and at least a rudimentary degree of intellect. I often see myself in them, and them in myself. They are never merely objects of curiosity and data-gathering potential to me. I watch and experience and write from that perspective.
I hope you had a nice drive and outing…and that you stopped and bought that fine waterdog a hamburger! I sometimes stop with Moon when I'm out and buy her a burger. I used to buy a root beer for my horse whenever we rode past a country store; that horse dearly loved slurping a big bottle of cold root beer on a hot summer afternoon.
Moon, by the way, is doing fine—perkier than she's been in months. I believe we're going to get past this okay.
Freda…
Thank you…and I'm pleased you like the muted harmony of the bird and river and background. I liked it, too. I love photos taken in soft, flat light, though sparkling sunshine also has its rewards. But this is indeed a very tranquil day.
I always feel privileged when I catch a glimpse of wild life of any sort but am not very knowledgable.
Your lovely photograph of the heron reminds me of last year when we were trying to catch sight of a kingfisher at a local nature reserve. Walking the path amongst the reeds I was thrilled to spot two herons not far from each other, so on entering the hide where three or more serious bird watchers were set up with their impressive tripods and long tele photo lenses I was eager to share my sightings, whereupon they merely waved me to the observation openings in the hide through which I could instantly see about a dozen herons scattered throughout the shallows of the lake in front of us.
I felt a bit of a twit, but they were a really friendly bunch who were as eager to share their expertise as I was to learn, so I spent a profitable morning having all sorts of waterbirds and waders pointed out to me.- never did see that kingfisher though.
Oh, and you are right about those woods in Monnesota not being silent Grizz. It was the silence of being alone in "my" hermitage
among the trees that stayed with me, and coloured my observations of the lovely creatures around me.
I guess you have that interior silence as you keep watch by the river too.
The sound of the strong winds through the bare limbs gave me thoughts of winter, but yet it felt more like a balmy spring day ...and a lazy one too!
hey do we get to see a photo of Moon the dog's tail wagging, going on a walk-just some proof she is up and at em.
I worry when you don't post for a few days. Is Moon-the-Dog OK? Did Grizz fall through the rotten bathroom floor? I imagine all sorts of things happening. 'Glad you're back with some nice GBH images.
Hazel…
I'm glad your heron deal with those expert birders didn't turn out badly. It's so easy—and alas, too common—for those who are experts when it comes to birds or wildflowers or whatever, to make someone long on enthusiasm but short on knowledge or experience, to feel foolish, which is so discouraging. For my part, let it be clear I'm, at best in that wonderful middle ground—neither expert nor amateur, still excited by the commonplace as well as the unusual, and willing to talk to anyone on either side of the equation at the drop of a field guide.
You're right about that "interior silence." I was an only child, and very sickly, often spending weeks at a time too ill to get out of the house…sometimes not even able to make it out of the bed. Reading was both my escape and salvation. That sort of long-term isolation can't help but affect a person, especially when it takes place during the formative years. Though I grew up alone, oddly, I think, I seldom recall being lonely. Rather than becoming needy and neurotic, my illness taught me to be self-contained, independent, to be calm, quite, patient, to be able to live in my own head and be at peace. Don't get me wrong, I love people, consider myself a "people person," and am perfectly comfortable—in fact generally have a lot of fun—in big crowds, parties, and rooms filled with strangers. But I also don't mind going off to the northwoods for a couple of weeks fishing or camping by myself, and actually enjoying doing so; I'd certainly rather be by myself than to take someone along I didn't particularly like just for company. I think one of the wonderful and valuable gifts a person can ever give themselves is time alone—time away from noise and responsibility, time away from friends and family and the constant connection of cell phones…time to get to know themselves, to look within, to search their heart and mind and soul and experience the joy of solitude and listening to that interior silence.
Wanda…
You called it perfectly right—yesterday did have the look and somehow conjured up the mood, or at least thoughts, of winter…but it felt more like a balmy day in early fall outside. We had a hearthfire all day, but probably really didn't need one, though Myladylove has been under the weather (some sort of flu-like virus) all week, and I'm sure the extra heat did her good.
Cloudy here today, too, and a bit of rain earlier in the morning—but still barely cool.
AfromTo…
Why, yes, I can accomodate that photo request—though the tail-wagging part might prove problematic. Whenever Moon realizes I'm taking her picture, she tends to stand stock still, tail included, and stare to see what I'm up to. And if I take a shot on the sly, employing a slow enough shutter speed to render that wagging tail as a visible blur, it's an almost sure bet some other portion of my fine old dog will also be in motion, as per Newton's Third Law of Physics. Howsomeever, as my Aunt Grace used to say…I'll see what I can come up up and post the result in the near future.
(You, meanwhile, may—should the spirit move—post, via email to me, a few images of your latest work.)
Scott…
Sorry to be so uncharacteristically silent. (There are those who might suggest you ought to count your blessings!)
However, it has been a week….
A friend of ours passed away Sunday a week ago. So there has been that.
On the plus side, Moon continues to do well.
The bathroom floor is now—until we come up with the time, energy, cash, and plumbing/electrical expertise necessary to do a few things before the redo—the concrete slab uncovered below the old floor, through which there is little danger of even me falling. We have rugs covering it, but it still looks like a bathroom floor in a construction site, which it is, and will be for awhile. No "Cottage Beautiful" photo spread for us this month, and probably not for the remainder of the year.
In addition, we've had any number of jobs to do, places to have to go, meetings to attend, blah, blah.
On the negative and exasperating… Myladylove has semi-succumbed to a flu-like whatever—which means she continues to work liked gangbusters every spare moment she can remain vertical, at which point she finally has to take her sick bed. There she rests until she can get up and work some more. So it's up, down, up, down, and so on—a cycle that leaves me trying to keep her down long enough to get well by trying to talk reason, science, horse sense, medical history, personal experience, fiscal responsibility, even age, whereupon I try begging, cajoling, tempting, before finally threatening to resort to duct-taping her to the bed for however long it takes. None of which, of course, works, but takes time and energy nonetheless.
So, there you have it…why I haven't written in a nutshell. Like I said, it has been a week.
Sent you a bunch of art...
AfromTO…
Wow! Got them. And will try get you off a letter tomorrow…
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