Before the Rain

I took a walk by Medicine Lake yesterday morning

Before the Rain

The skies were a threatening looking blue color that created amazing light on the lake. I hadn’t walked far before I saw a snowy egret and a great blue heron standing in the shallow water just off-shore. I wished that I had my long lens so that I could make close-ups of them.

But it really didn’t matter that much to me as I simply soaked in their beauty and watched them fishing in the shallow water. It amazed me that so many people were passing by without noticing them, oblivious to the magical beauty just yards away from them.

One of the things that I’ve noticed about my frequent walks beside Medicine Lake is that

It’s never the same walk

The light changes hour to hour and day to day. And the wildlife and nature in and along the lake also changes. This is the thing I’ve learned from becoming a photographer — each moment is unique. Everything is in constant motion even when it doesn’t seem to be.

I paused to watch a muskrat swimming near the shore and a runner on the path also stopped to look. He told me that he always sees something different on his daily runs. One spring day he saw a young bald eagle with a fish in its beak.

Lots of people were out walking, biking, kayaking, and swimming in the lake, taking advantage of the calm before the storm. (Though yesterday’s storms were not all that threatening where we live.)

My walk yesterday reminded me of Mary Oliver’s poem, Mysteries, Four of the Simple Ones so I’ll share it with you here today.

Mysteries, Four of the Simple Ones

How does the seed-grain feel
when it is just beginning to be wheat?

And how does the catbird feel
when the blue eggs break and become little catbirds?

Maybe on midsummer night’s eve,
and without fanfare?

And how does the turtle feel as she covers her eggs
with the sweep of her feet,
then leaves them for the world to take care of?

Does she know her accomplishment?

And when the blue heron, breaking his long breast feathers,
sees one feather fall, does he know I will find it?
Will he see me holding it in my hand?

as he opens his wings
softly and without a sound—
as he rises and floats over the water?

And this is just any day at the edge of the pond,
a black and leafy pond without a name
until I named it.

And what else can we do when the mysteries present themselves
but hope to pluck from the basket the brisk words
that will applaud them,

the heron, the turtle, the catbird, the seed-grain
kneeling in the dark earth, its body
opening into the golden world?

   — Mary Oliver

I hope you are having a beautiful weekend friends.

May you walk in beauty.