And then, there was One.


My Swans @ Daybreak. 6:37 am, April 9, 2022. 47° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.More photos from this morning here.

Without spring who knows what would happen. A lot of nothing, I suppose.


Notes:

  • Grace (and George) building their nest. (Grace being named by my good friend LouAnn.)
  • My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 6:57 a.m. yesterday morning. 42° F.  Other photos from yesterday morning here.  Backstories on swans here.
  • Post Title: Mary Oliver, from “Late Spring,” Felicity: Poems  (via Alive on All Channels)

Saturday Morning


Grace, having breakfast. (Grace being named by good friend LouAnn.)

My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 7:00 a.m. this morning. 47° F.  Other photos from this morning here.  Backstories on swans here.

Symmetry (2)


We’re just going to keep posting Swans until exhaustion.

My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 6:15 a.m. this morning. 28° F.  Other photos from this morning here.  Backstories on swans here.

Symmetry


My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 6:18 a.m. this morning. 31° F. Photos from this morning here.  Backstories on swans here.

T.G.I.F.


My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 5:35 a.m. this morning. 18° F, feels like 10° F. More photos from this morning here.  Backstory on swans here.

Sunday Morning


My Swan(s) @ Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. 6:45 a.m. this morning. More photos from this morning (including Crescent Moon) here.  Backstory on swans here.

T.G.I.F. Just stay in bed…


Ukraine. Russian invasion. Wintery Mix followed by freezing rain. 28° F, feels like 18° F.  Best to just stay in bed, and ride it out.


Photo: DK @ Cove Island Park. Friday, Feb 25, 2022. 6:06 a.m. More photos from this morning here.

Tuesday Morning Big Stretch!


My Swan in a Big Stretch @ Daybreak. 6:40 am, Feb 22, 2022. 34° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.  Backstories on my Swan here. More pictures from this morning here.

Just She, and then there were …


Went out yesterday afternoon in a flash winter weather advisory (a 20 minute snow squall / white-out) to be welcomed by another most pleasant surprise. Backstories on my Swan here.

And…Her.

7/ 3/ 54. I keep myself going with various kinds of dope: books, written and read, dreams, hopes, crossword puzzles, the sentimentality of friendships, and real friendships, and simply routine.

 Patricia Highsmith, “Patricia Highsmith: Her Diaries and Notebooks: 1941-1995.″ Anna von Planta (Editor). (Liveright, November 16, 2021)— Patricia Highsmith, Her Diaries and Notebooks: 1941-1995

 


Notes:

  • Photos: DK @ Daybreak. 6:45 am, Feb 8, 2022. 36° F, feels like 29° F, Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning here.
  • Related Swan Posts: Swan1

Miracle. All of it. (Take 2)

…and there she sleeps this morning. No mate. Frozen ice surrounds her, and she rests undisturbed. At Peace.

I’m looking out at her. Mr. Canadian Tough-Guy.  Wearing T-shirt – – Sweater over T-Shirt – – Hoodie over Sweater – –  Northface Down Parka jacket over Hoodie – – Hood up – – Snowpants – – Long johns – – Sweatpants – – Smart Wool Socks – – Sorel Boots – – Smart Wool Gloves.

And I’m still shivering, yearning to get back in the car. A car that’s running, heater blowing.

How all this works?

Beyond my comprehension.

Miracle. All of it.

6:55 a.m. 15° F (- 9° C), feels like 1° F (- 17° C), wind gusts up to 28 mph. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.


Post title Inspired by Albert Einstein’s quote: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle.

Monday Morning

5/24/41…

After all that, the change … was like the sudden, unwelcome awakening from a glorious dream. An awakening on a Monday morning when, with one’s castle and clouds and the silver sea dissolved into a sordid room, one realizes that one has to get up and dress in the cold night in a few minutes and plod through a weary day.

Patricia Highsmith, “Patricia Highsmith: Her Diaries and Notebooks: 1941-1995.″ Anna von Planta (Editor). (Liveright, November 16, 2021)— Patricia Highsmith, Her Diaries and Notebooks: 1941-1995


Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 6:52 a.m., November 22, 2021. 48° F & Rain. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. Related Swan posts: Swan1

Daybreak


Birds @ Daybreak. 4:58 to 5:18 am, May 21, 2021. 55° F. Weed Ave / Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. Related Swan posts: Swan1

T.G.I.F.: Nesting…Take 2.


DK @ Daybreak. 5:20 a.m. May 13, 2021. Weed Avenue, Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. Related Swan posts: Swan1

Find a cozy spot 2 yards from the highway, build a nest and…


…sit on your eggs for 35 to 36 days. Believe we are on Day 2 or 3.  (As to Mother Goose, she’s still workin’ it.) DK Photos taken @ Weed Avenue / Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT during the mornings of April 26 & April 27th, 2021.  (Related Swan posts: Swan1)

T.G.I.F.: 5:00 PM Bell!


September 11, 2020. 71° F. The Cove, Stamford, CT (Related Swan posts: Swan1)

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week


Officials record and examine cygnets and swans during the annual census of the Queen’s swans, known as ‘Swan Upping,’ along the River Thames near Chertsey, Britain. (Toby Melville, Reuters, wsj.com July 16, 2018)

head up in the bright morning air

swan

But earlier this week on a wooded path,
I thought the swans afloat on the reservoir
were the true geniuses,
the ones who had figured out how to fly,
how to be both beautiful and brutal,
and how to mate for life.

Twenty-four geniuses in all,
for I numbered them as Yeats had done,
deployed upon the calm, crystalline surface—

forty-eight if we count their white reflections,
or an even fifty if you want to throw in me
and the dog running up ahead,

who were at least smart enough to be out
that morning—she sniffing the ground,
me with my head up in the bright morning air.

– Billy Collins, Genius from Aimless Love: New and Selected Poems


Notes:

 

Swan

swan

When I was very young, my Mother took me for walks in Humboldt Park, along the edge of the Prairie River. I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates, of an old boathouse, a circular band shell, an arched stone bridge. The narrows of the river emptied into a wide lagoon and I saw upon its surface a singular miracle. A long curving neck rose from a dress of white plumage.

Swan, my mother said, sensing my excitement. It pattered the bright water, flapping its great wings, and lifted into the sky.

The word alone hardly attested to its magnificence nor conveyed the emotion it produced. The sight of it generated an urge I had no words for, a desire to speak of the swan, to say something of its whiteness, the explosive nature of its movement, and the slow beating of its wings.

The swan became one with the sky. I struggled to find words to describe my own sense of it. Swan, I repeated, not entirely satisfied, and I felt a twinge, a curious yearning, imperceptible to passersby, my mother, the trees, or the clouds.

~ Patti Smith, Just Kids


Photo: Swan by tatsuo yamaguchi (via Superbnature)

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