Me, out of Custodial Mode. A very rare photo by Bill of the Birds.
I don't know what's happening to this summer. I feel like I'm running constantly just to stay abreast of all there is to do. It might have something to do with having the kids home and needing meals all the time, something to do with processing two large loads of laundry each and every day; something to do with a huge fast-growing lawn and gardens needing weeding that go on and on; with the fishpond filter that clogs with algae every day, with the Bird Spa needing to be scrubbed and refreshed; with countless planters and hanging baskets and bonsai trees suddenly drying up and needing to be watered each day; with all the creatures from fish and turtles to macaw, dog, flocks of brilliant goldfinches and hummingbirds that need to be fed and cleaned up after every day. Add doctor, dentist, orthodontist and optometrists' appointments, music lessons and frequent travel onto that, and I guess I've figured out what's happening to this summer. Please ignore my antic punctuation in this paragraph. I got lost somewhere between the semicolons and the commas. I'm just lost in general, wandering around in Custodian Land, trying to figure out how it all got to be so too much.
I think I do a whiny I-can't-do-it-all post like this every July. I love summer with all my heart, but the chores seem to magnify then multiply, magically. Sometimes I hum "Lazy Crazy Hazy Days of Summer" and just laugh. I would love to be lazy. Even for ten minutes.
I would like to have just one thing to do at a time, like a woodpecker feeding its young. I'm sure she'd trade with me...
When it all gets to be too much I go back in my mind to North Bend, to the quiet waters.
To the miniature islets, planted just so.
To the sunbathing heron, standing with her wings akimbo, baking her body lice. Lazy girl.
I drift closer and closer until she breaks the pose and sets about catching some fish.
She waded in and caught an early dinner soon after these images were taken. I was glad not to have put her off her task.
That's what I love most about canoeing. It's easier to slip in and out of birds' lives in a little watercraft.
And no, you can't sex a great blue heron. I was just guessing. Something about the way she was holding her wings.
I loved watching the kids discover nature with the help of David and Mary Jane and their big canoe. Liam was cautious about bass. He kept asking me if bass have teeth.
I kept flashing on the wings of red-headed woodpeckers. It was a magical day, a fecund day, full of all the things I love best.
Best of all, the birds we came to see were busy making more red-headed woodpeckers.
and more noisy flickers.
and more great blue herons
What a treasure North Bend State Park is. What a glorious place. You really don't have to look too far in West Virginia and southern Ohio to find some really special places to hike and canoe. I'd wager that's true for a lot of places. One of my readers commented: You're seriously making me want to get a canoe or kayak, although I don't think I have anywhere that beautiful and bountiful to use it!
Blue skies and puffy clouds and dragonflies on the shore.
My totem turkey vultures circled and tilted, telling me this was a good place for my spirit to rest.
If one could have a totem butterfly, the Z is for Zebra swallowtail would be mine.
Phoebe would soon discover the next wonderful thing I needed to photograph. "There's a bird here that looks like a pewee, but it has yellow underneath. It's got a nest here."
Give 'em binoculars and what do you get? Little poults who find wonderful things, and return the favor by pointing them out to you!
Those mystery birds to follow.
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