Spring is such a rich season for photography. Wildlife flirts, blossoms sing, and the air alternates between moist and sunny.
As serene as this scene appears, birds are singing, bees are buzzing in prolific numbers, and the mosquitoes are having a feast. Still, I linger, hunting for the source of that one song that thrills me.
The Canada Geese appear to be having a bit of a domestic, while a mother duck herds her young through the cover of reeds.
A splash alerts to me the presence of a mammal – a beaver, I think.
And then, high up in tree, I spot the source of my delight:
What a fun season to be photographing! Babies everywhere.
These are more of the ducklings I featured last week. The one on the right thought he’d try walking in the shallow water. Duck feet, he discovered, are awkward on land. Not sure if this dip was intentional – looked more like a face plant – but at least he came out of it with a snack.
Up the road, the new foals are stilling sticking close to their mothers. So sweet!
Featured image is a tree swallow, waiting for Mom to return with food.
Hope your day is filled with cuteness, too!
(Note: a watercolour version of the two ducklings is available is available in my shops. Check the ‘shop’ page for more information.)
Day one of trying out the new protocols for maximizing energy. Turned off all screens at ten last night, and was asleep before eleven.
This morning, I dressed quickly and headed out the door by 7:30. The sun was already up and birds were flitting all about. Ice on the windshield meant I had to wait for the car to defrost. Couldn’t help but wonder if this was folly.
Cardinals, goldfinches, and red-winged blackbirds sang and flitted amongst the trees, just now getting their spring buds. We’ve returned home in time to welcome in this glorious season.
I drove a few blocks to the central attraction of our village – the Little Falls. Just beyond the falls is a park, and I slowly drove the circular path, stopping at a few points by the river to watch the birds.
A Canada Goose was loudly proclaiming her presence. Not sure if she was just cold, or telling off her mate who was grooming on the shore.
Further upstream, two ducks were gliding along. Without a breeze the river formed a mirror for the trees and houses lining its banks.
I parked near the falls and got out to take a few pictures. The falls, usually teeming with birds, were quiet this morning. Across the way, I noted a woodpecker, and heard the distinct song of the cardinal. A robin pecked at the ground.
Standing on the walkway, overlooking the intersection where our two rivers connect, I felt a sense of renewal.
It was nice to get away for the winter, and it is also nice to be home. I am excited to see what the season will present.
Raindrops, not tears, blur my vision – the line of trees before me a glistening blur. The pounding in my temples is just the steady rhythm of watery drip, drip, drip, not the incessant roar of my blood pounding – discordant is this day.
I wrote this piece while stranded in Mississippi, with eighteen hours of driving still ahead of us, and no idea when we might resume our trip. The car had been towed to the shop and the RV mechanic had not yet shown up. Rain began pummelling down early in the morning, and showed no sign of letting up.
As we all know, rain does stop, and circumstances change, and so, hopefully, by the time you read this, I am safe and dry in our home, the incidence all but forgotten.
April is, according to lore, the month of showers, washing away the old and watering the new.
What does rain mean to you? Show me in photographs, tell me in poems or prose, or any other creative means of expression.