A Blessed Thaw

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.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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