Well up the cove I find myself still preoccupied with those dingy thoughts of daily life. I turn up the small creek that drains the backside of one of the river's bordering hills. It is shallow due to low tide and I won't get as far as I normally do. I stop and sit for awhile.
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| The last Osprey |
A Great Blue Heron rises up from the shadows of the forest in the bend ahead of me. Before it flies out of my vision, it circles in the brilliant sunlight and unleashes a magnificent stream of cream colored shit. It really is that beautiful. The dingy thoughts are gone. I head back to the river.
In fact, with the mind unburdened, good and creative ideas race through my mind faster than I can keep up. When I get to the state park, a former family summer resort..."Holiday in Hell" if the advertising images that I've seen were accurate, I envision cardboard cutouts of men in hats and bermuda shorts smoking pipes with other cardboard cutouts of June Cleaver look-a-likes toting trays of cookies and pitchers of Kool-Aid. Don't drink the Kool-Aid.
I continue up and take the narrow side channel...a bit of wading in here. Halfway up I come to a fresh and small beaver dam with a deep and well used beaver drag nearby. I have something to observe throughout the winter when other people are not around.
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| Beaver drag and dam |
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