"Being there" on a Spring morning

Thanks to the Better Half [BH], this morning we enjoyed the year's first confirmed sighting of a red-winged blackbird. BH had motored off to the local grocery store at the proverbial crack of dawn. After she parked, she sent me a text telling me to go take some pictures of the sleeping swans on the Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools. I promptly put down my coffee cup, pulled on my jeans with the drivers license in the pocket, grabbed the camera, climbed into the Jeep, and headed off.  The ponds are about a ten minute drive from the house.

Spring morning ducks in flight

Photo by J. Harrington

It was that kind of morning and scene that reminded me of why I had been an ardent waterfowl hunter for many years. It was all about Being There, as Gene Hill, one of my all-time favorite writers, put it many years ago. The pool surfaces were mirror smooth. There were a few ducks in the air. Many of the swans were awakening as the sun climbed higher  and got brighter. A few remained sleeping with their heads tucked under their wings or else they were seeking an underwater breakfast. Watching the swans, geese, ducks and sunrise, just "being there," made me realize how lucky I've been in my life so far, to have been able to enjoy so many mornings like this.

Spring morning swans sleeping (center right)

Photo by J. Harrington

After taking a few pictures, I turned the Jeep around and headed home to reheat  the coffee. That's when I saw, perched on a roadside post, the blackbird [no photo of this one]. I've heard an occasional call or two this week, but this was my first sighting. And, as I look out the window while typing this, I just noticed a purple finch at the feeder. Spring is here. May we all enjoy all of it. May it not be our last but may its pleasures last us a lifetime.

Spring Morning 

Marion Strobel

O day—if I could cup my hands and drink of you, 
And make this shining wonder be 
A part of me! 
O day! O day!
You lift and sway your colors on the sky 
Till I am crushed with beauty. Why is there 
More of reeling sunlit air 
Than I can breathe? Why is there sound 
In silence? Why is a singing wound 
About each hour? 
And perfume when there is no flower? 
O day! O Day! How may I press 
Nearer to loveliness?

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