By Water’s Edge
My photo buddy, Julie, and I haven’t been out during the past month because of hot weather, high humidity and visits from my grandchildren. During our last outing we spent some time on the edge of one of the hundreds of small inland lakes in our area, parking at a small boat launch.
Even though it has been a month, I don’t have any trouble remembering the feel, the smell, and sounds of being on a small lake because I grew up on them – I have thousands of neurons firing memories when I sort through the photos I took.
I remember how the reeds would catch between my toes, the joy of cool water hitting my face as I dove under the surface, the intense concentration needed to catch tadpoles and minnows in the shallow waters, skipping stones. Fresh water lakes have a very different smell than salt water. Neither is good or bad – but I prefer fresh water because it is familiar. It is coming home.
A family of swans glided close to shore and I slowly walked toward them, taking a seat on a picnic table close to the water.
Their goal was to get to shallow water so they could do their morning grooming. They didn’t seem to mind my intrusion – too much.
After leaving the boat launch, I said the magic word, “stop” when I saw a small stream that fed the lake. When we stop, Julie and I go our separate ways and just stand and click and wait and click and listen and click and watch and click. It paid off because soon geese started coming out of the plants at water’s edge. Two came out, waited and watched for a few seconds, and then two goslings followed.
Julie just e-mailed and we are going out tomorrow morning about sunrise. My anticipation of seeing a whole new take on our world through my camera lens makes my heart beat a little faster. I wish you could join us.