Walking. In Strawberries.

4:23 a.m., or so.  Yesterday morning.

It’s been 772 consecutive (almost) days on my daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

And, I’m walking.

This is after moon shots at 1:43 am, 3:35 am, and now – – all posted yesterday in Let us taste the Strawberry MoonWhy, am I still up? Because Christie told me about the Strawberry Moon. And when my WordPress friends tell me to do something, I do it. So I chased her.

Who’s Christie? Mimi from her post last night: “There are people who I have followed (or who have followed me) on WordPress for years. Never met them, never spoke to them, and would likely not recognize them if we passed on the street. And yet, they are my friends…We commiserate in comment sections, check in with each other on email, rail at times, commiserate other times and occasionally marvel at our common ground. Ground that we walk in figurative step, covering invisible miles through the ether, yet as firm under my feet as the street. There is wonder in this.”

There is wonder in this. I’m nodding my head in agreement. Yet another awesome Human who can put into words, what I can’t, and so beautifully.

I walk. Bleary-eyed. Bone tired. Exhaustion fully set in.

I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s Giant, my Strawberry Moon, hovering, and whisper quiet as she hangs overhead, illuminating the earth in her warm glow.  All, I’m sure, to protect me from taking a header as I make my way to the North point of the park.

I walk.

I twist my Air Pod snugly into my right ear, and then my left.  I cue up a Chill playlist, randomly selected by another giant fruit, Apple.

I walk. My feet are moving under their own propulsion, on the same track that I have now passed hundreds of times.  “Siri, turn up the volume.”  Henry Green in “Shift” …I feel movements under my skin…”

And here they come.  Two cormorants, not more than two feet over the water, their wings, silhouettes, reflecting underneath them as they race to their next feeding ground. These two are followed by a flock of 10, all in formation, an arms length above the water. My spirit birds. Good morning to you too!

They pass.  I walk.

To my right, an adult egret.  She’s standing a few feet outside of the line of moonlight.

I stop. Come on Girl. Slide over. Just a few feet. I know you want to stand in that Strawberry moonlight. Come on.

She takes a single step over. And glances up at me.  No. No. No. I’m not going to hurt you. A few more steps.

She moves. Or Strawberry Moon moves. Or they both move. And be damned, if she doesn’t tip-toe and step right into the line of fire. I’m holding my breath, slipping the lens cap off, ever-so-gently, not to spook her.  Now, Dummy, take the shot!

And no sooner than I take the shot, she is gone, and I watch her disappear over the water.

I pause for a moment to take this all in.  It won’t get better than that so I pack away the gear and start to walk back to the car.  As I’m walking, I turn back to look over the horizon.  It’s a Strawberry hue, and I’m pulled back to the shoreline.

I walk back, pressing my luck. You landed your shot, now Go home.

And just then, just when you think you’ve had your big Moment …I feel movements under my skin… there is Another, and Another and Another.

And to think, I needed the sleep, should have slept, didn’t sleep, dragged my tired sorry a** out…and had I not, I would have missed ALL of this.

I’m going to remember this.


  • Photos by DK @ Daybreak @ ~4:45 to 5:10 am, June 15, 2022. 65° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from yesterday morning’s walk here and here.


  1. I’m going to remember this too. Wonderful captures Dave 🍓

    Liked by 2 people

  2. She looks like she’s standing on glass…how this moment found you – as if the universe knew you were cranky and tired and oh so weary…Then to be graced with the morning’s most perfect pastel presentation..You will remember this. I will too.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. We will ALL remember this, pal, these halcyon moments you freeze so beautifully through your lens. Keep walking (and go gently with yourself….) 🙏🏻

    Liked by 3 people

  4. What an exquisite piece of writing, and gorgeous photos, David. I have goose bumps! Thank you for sharing your world … 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  5. glad you didn’t miss a moment of it. you can always work on catching up on sleep, but cannot catch up on being witness to this.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Gorgeous. Everything. Words, photos, feeling evoked. A good morning, I would say.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Anonymous says:

    Magical moon moments….

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Magical moon moments

    Liked by 1 person

  9. You’re ready to make Arnold Lobel’s Tear Water Tea. Owl has to think of many sad things so he can cry, catch the tears, and make tear water tea. He lists many sad things and cries. One of them is “Mornings nobody saw because everybody was sleeping.” (Sad enough to make Owl cry.) Your post made me think of this fun story (you can see it on youtube), because now you can relate to how sad it would be to have missed it. The book is Owl at Home and the story is Tear Water Tea, Cute little kids’ story.


  10. The lights transition between the three pictures is amazing 👍

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
    This is detyermination!! … Admire and ‘envy’ you! … “It’s been 772 consecutive (almost) days on my daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row. And, I’m walking.”

    Liked by 1 person

  12. O-o-o-h All of what you are sharing! Thank you Moon, thank you Cormorants for leading David, thank you Egret, thank you Henry Green for singing Shift that way! So glad you can write!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I think Mary Oliver sums up your post perfectly 🙏🏻☀️

    Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
    to be understood.

    How grass can be nourishing in the
    mouths of the lambs.
    How rivers and stones are forever
    in allegiance with gravity
    while we ourselves dream of rising.
    How two hands touch and the bonds will
    never be broken.
    How people come, from delight or the
    scars of damage,
    to the comfort of a poem.

    Let me keep my distance, always, from those
    who think they have the answers.

    Let me keep company always with those who say
    “Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
    and bow their heads.

    ‘Mysteries, Yes’
    by Mary Oliver

    Liked by 1 person

  14. This capture of the heron, this light, is one of my favorites of yours. Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Beautiful photos AND writing, thank you, David. I don’t know how you do it all. Work, no sleep, walking, photography. I could feel what you were feeling. How many times have I said, “I should have stayed just a little bit longer.” Sometimes I wonder if the pull of photography is a curse…and yet, it gives so much to the world. You are creating a part of your legacy, each and every day. It’s been something to witness “the evolution of David.” I’m so happy to see this side of an extraordinary friend.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Carol, I read your comment yesterday. Set it aside. Read it again this morning. And thought. There are really good, kind people on this planet, that pull others along in the wake of their Light. That’s you Carol. Your comment means more to me than you know. Thank you for taking a moment to share your kind words, that will pull me along for a long while.

      Liked by 1 person

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