Many Happy Returns
From the edge of the lake, I watched turtles, fish, frogs, snakes, and birds, all going about the business of living their lives, while the sun played hide-and-seek among fat, lazy clouds, and insects hummed, chirruped, and buzzed. Nearby, a woodpecker added rhythmic percussion to the skirl of a catbird's call. In the distance, musical voices of children, laughing and calling out to each other, made me smile, remembering moments long ago at this same park with my wide-eyed, two-year-old son just beginning to discover the amazing sights and sounds of Nature. Tentacles of memory intertwine within me and this park, this tiny lake, these trees and wildflowers, envelop me in a soft embrace. I've returned to my past, and found it redolent with quiet happiness.
I had thought I would hike a trail winding through the woods, but when I arrived at the far edge of the lake, Nature seduced me into staying, displaying a profusion of everyday wonders and evoking a cascade of warm memories. "See," she told me. "Take it all in, with your ears and eyes." And when I was fully enraptured, immersed in the beauty of the surroundings, "Close your eyes," she said, "and see inside yourself, see the chain of years stretching back. After countless changes, nothing is changed."
It is supremely important and overwhelmingly comforting to have a place to return to. A place that has always brought peace. A place that links serene calm directly to the soul.
I stood watching this juvenile green heron for over an hour as it hopped and fluttered around the lake, catching frogs, fish, and crustaceans. It startled easily, and once flew off because I had alarmed it, but by finding a spot nestled among the bushes beside the water and remaining still and quiet, I enticed it to forget about me and return. Perseverance was eventually rewarded by having it land nearby so I could observe its antics quite closely. With birds and wildlife, the most important skill a photographer can have is quiet patience.