Walking in ‘ett ögonblick’

Posted on by Live & Learn

So it had to come. It was only a matter of time. 

It’s been 1,129 consecutive (sort of, almost, consecutive) days on this morning walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

Yet, most recent mornings at the Park were absorbed by this little family. I scrapped the walk, ignored my step counts, and stood to watch them start their day. Are they up yet? Having breakfast?  It’s been one month of cygnet posts, coincidently, one month to the day when I shared “Guess who has arrived?!?!?!” 

I stopped by the nest. High tide had swamped it, and washed away all the straw that Mom and Dad had so carefully constructed for the nest.

Embers flickering, I’m inhaling smoke from the Canadian wildfires. I couldn’t find them. A mallard, yes. A scruffy gosling, yes. But no cygnet. And no swans. And all that I seemed to have left were these lines from Szilvia Molnar:

At any given moment, it was a necessity. Funny how quickly I had lost the idea of “any given moment.” Momentum implying something similar to “movement, motion, moving power” but also “alteration, change” over a “short time,” having a longer duration than “an instant,” ett ögonblick, a blink of an eye. As a puff of smoke giving in to air, I watched the moment disappear from me.

My cygnet and his parents were gone.

27 thoughts on “Walking in ‘ett ögonblick’”

  1. It was a good run. I’m confident that Wally will be pleased to get back into the spotlight.

  2. So bittersweet…I think we all bought into the wonder of this little family and were delighted by their presence (through your lens of course)…It felt like we were watching something special, a nod of appreciation to Mother Nature. They probably got sick of the haze and poor air quality and decided to get out of Dodge. And perhaps they’ll return – George and Gracie that is, and will build another nest and share their delight with you – and us by extension.

    1. Smiling. I don’t drink coffee or tea, but reading your words are comfort food, or sipping that cup of java in the silence of the morning. Thank God for people like you on this Planet amidst all this haze and gloom. Thank you.

      1. Ok, my friend now you’ve done it…there’s no crying in baseball and there shouldn’t be any crying with my coffee…and yet, here I am. The gratitude is mutual – you’re somewhat curmudgeonly walks give us all an opportunity to wonder, smile, occasionally weep and always be the better for it. Speaking for all, the thanks are ours. Now I have to get a tissue.

  11. Hhmmm … mother nature may have taken them somewhere with more trees to help with the smokiness. I’ve noticed a big difference thanks to trees working overtime. Just wish there was rain soon so the trees can be rewarded for their hard work.
    Stay hopeful DK 🙏🏻

  12. All may not be lost, David. I am sorry the absence of your swan family has caused you consternation. But you never know! They may have cut out to a place with better air quality. I hope they return next spring! 🦢

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