Recent activity coupled with the onset of a cold, has my body begging for more rest, but the sun is shining and a sudden mild spell has melted the snow, and my camera is begging.
Ric, whose man cold surpasses mine, hunkers in with a box of Kleenex and his flannel pjs. I’m on my own.
I take my walker and head for the trestle bridge. Judging by the loud chorus of geese, they are also enjoying the day.
A young man and his toddler pass me on the path. He’s loaded down with binoculars and fancy camera equipment.
I raise my lens to capture a chickadee and he chirps: “Just a chickadee. We spotted a fox sparrow, and now I’m on the hunt for a Snow Goose.”
Suddenly, I’m feeling very amateur, but he means well. They move along quickly, and I carry on at my snail’s pace. By the time I reach the bridge, they have stopped again, the young man very excited.
“Do you see it?” He points at a field, across the river, where hoards of geese gather and hands me his binoculars.
A snow goose. I am only able to capture this grainy image.
They move on and I snap a few pictures and head back, pleased with myself that I’ve made the effort.
Now home to rest.
(Thursdays is my day of gratitude.)