I can't sleep…
Atlantic Brant’s are back for a pit stop before heading north. More pictures from this morning’s walk here.
If you’ve never heard the call of an Atlantic Brant, listen here. “The Atlantic brant makes a low, guttural ruk-ruk sound, and its call pattern is flat, rising, and undulating. Brant also make a guttural crrrronk when flying or on the ground, and a shorter, sharper cruk alarm call. (via Google)”
3:30 am.
Wally skooches (sp?) up from under the covers and gives me kisses. How does one not smile at this wonderful creature, even this hour. Wally needs to go wee-wee. He races out to the end of the yard, does his business, and comes bolting back, doing a full body shake in flight to shake the cold off — Wally wants no part of what’s outside at this hour. And I can’t blame him.
I shiver, look up, and there’s Moon, in her full glory. I grab the camera and take the shot— best to have something to show for this unexpected Call-of-Wally-Duty at this hour. (Shot here.)
5:30 am.
1,416 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a Row.
Susan reminded me last night that it’s the first day of Spring. I wondered if I forgot to push the clock back a month with the time change. The thermometer reads 29 F°, but there is no way in Hell it’s remotely close to that. Wind gusts up to 25 mph are blowing (I mean BLOWING) off Long Island Sound, and miraculously finding every exposed piece of flesh, which is a miracle in itself given that I’m 4-layered up. Shiver, again.
There are only 4 of us out in the Park this morning, the Regulars, with King Lunatic out front. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” Well, mostly true here, except the gloom or sheets of rain can present temporary obstacles.
Continue reading “Walking. Like a Pissant.”
I do not know what gorgeous thing
the bluebird keeps saying
his voice easing out of his throat,
beak, body into the pink air
of the early morning. I like it
whatever it is. Sometimes
it seems the only thing in the world
that is without dark thoughts.
Sometimes it seems the only thing
in the world that is without
questions that can’t and probably
never will be answered, the
only thing that is entirely content
with the pink, then clear white
morning and, gratefully, says so
— Mary Oliver, “What Gorgeous Thing” in Blue Horses
Notes: DK Photo. Poem, thank you Make Believe Boutique)
6:54 am. Weather app says 33° F. There’s no damn way it’s 33°. I shiver.
And, I walk.
1,347 consecutive (almost) days at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.
Our Swan family sleeps peacefully out in open water, a rare sight. The youngster is now fully grown, making it difficult to sort out who’s who.
I stand watching them, the pulse slows, this calm in the shadow of bombs dropping in Kyiv, in Gaza and in Yemen. And the warming planet offering a respite for the swans who don’t need to migrate south to find unfrozen bodies of water.
Non sequitur. Up and in flashes a segment of a CBS Sunday Morning interview with Jelly Roll, not the donut kind, but the rapper and singer. It’s a worthy segment, I urge you all to watch.
Jelly says “I have a very dark hallway between my ears.”
I look out at the swans.
Peace. And War.
War & Peace.
Notes:
