Bethany Church Easter Sunrise Service (sans Sunrise). 6:00 – 7:00 am. 41° F, with light rain. April 5, 2026. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos of this morning’s walk here.
Easter Sunday
Susan’s Bucket List!
Susan was able to fulfill one of her top bucket list events this morning with a photo of an owl. Don’t miss her amazing pictures here.
It was one of those morning experiences in this crazy world we live in that we won’t soon forget.
A bit of background on this giant baby bird.
The older sibling fell out of its nest and was helped off the highway by a good samaritan who placed him/her in a resident’s front yard. The other sibling remained in the nesting cavity of a large decaying tree.
Per Gemini, “this bird is a fledgling or a ‘brancher’ given the abundance of downy, ‘fluffy’ feathers and the emerging adult plumage on the wings. At this stage, they have left the nest but aren’t yet fully capable of sustained flight, often spending their time climbing nearby branches or sitting on the ground while their parents continue to feed and protect them.”
We didn’t see Mom around but we were told she was WATCHING.
My lesser quality photos (compared to Susan’s photos) can be found here.
Walking. In rush hour traffic…
It’s been 2,149 consecutive (well, almost) days on this morning walk at The Cove. Like in a row.
The highlight of the morning were the Atlantic Brants. The photo time stamp on the shot above was 6:47 am, just minutes before the Sun’s lift-off. There is nothing like the sound of the battalion’s wing flaps and their distinctive call (you really must listen here). Watching them just feet above the water, I couldn’t help but think: “You look marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!“
I stood on the break wall watching the sunrise.
Momentarily at peace.
And then it was The Cove’s rush hour traffic. A new phenomenon. DK’s groupies. 5 years ago, you wouldn’t find a soul at this park at this hour, now I’m mobbed.
Susan’s to my left snapping at the sun (without our Wally, who was left behind at home — the horror!) She’s slinging two cameras over her shoulder, yes, two. (Note to Self – Susan to Dave in 2023: “You always have to take things to the extreme, do you really need two cameras?” Elephant never forgets.)
Cara’s next to Susan, sporting designer Tall Boots akin to a rider in a Dressage event. She’s criss-crossing back and forth, violently snapping at everything that moves. Oh the young-uns, they do everything with such flourish.
Then came the rest: the walkers, the dog walkers and the runners.
I pack my gear and head back.
Look at you DK — The Pied Piper of The Cove.
God, I miss the good ole’ days.
Notes: Shots from this morning’s walk can be found here.
Monday Morning Wake-up Call
Hello Peeps. Wally here. It rained all night tapping on the hood of Dad’s car. And I freaked when I found dad still in bed with me at 7:30 am.
“You sick Dad? I hope not.”
“No Wally … just Retired.”
I don’t like rain at all but love Retirement Dad.
Happy Monday!
Inspired by:
Don’t run any more. Quiet. How softly it rains On the roofs of the city. How perfect All things are. Now, for the two of you Waking up in a royal bed by a garret window.
— Czesław Miłosz, from “After Paradise” in “New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001 (Ecco, 2001)
‘he wasn’t all there…’
Uncle Arch…We drove past the front door pretty much every time we visited Dad’s parents but we only went inside on one occasion. My sole memory is that one wall of the living room was unrendered and that the place had an air of profound sadness, though the latter may have been my own projection. He never came to Christmas lunch at our house with his brother and sister-in-law. I can only assume he wasn’t invited. In our entire lives Fiona and I saw him a handful of times at most, during that single visit and at a couple of family funerals and weddings. He seemed placid and slow and a little scruffy, but otherwise not greatly different from many other guests. He never married, never had children. I don’t think he worked. Later when I asked Mum about him she said, ‘He wasn’t all there,’ and refused to elaborate so that I have no idea whether he had some kind of learning difficulty or whether he was heavily medicated for a psychiatric illness, but he lived independently into his sixties so whatever difficulties he faced were not insuperable ones. I’ve since worked with many people like Uncle Arch, the kind of people we pass all too easily in the street, forgetting that they have stories and experiences and interior lives of as much value as our own but who get pushed to the edge of society, who are excluded from family events because they’re seen as shameful, because their personal hygiene isn’t perfect, because they might behave inappropriately, because we don’t know how to behave in their presence. I can’t think about Uncle Arch without thinking of how completely and how effectively he was written out of our lives, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I never once looked around the table at Christmas lunch and thought about him sitting eating his Christmas lunch alone four miles away.
— Mark Haddon, Leaving Home: A Memoir in Full Colour (Doubleday, February 17, 2026)
Notes:
- Recommended.
- NY Times Book Review by Jeannette Winterson: “From a Best-Selling Novelist, a Memoir Drawn in Blood and Whimsy.” Recommended as one of NY Times best books of the week ending Feb 19, 2026