Several v-shaped honking masses flew overhead as I was driving home yesterday morning, luckily I was able to capture some of the action.
I’ve often wondered if water has memory. Does water flowing downstream via waterfalls, rapids and streams remember from where it came? When freshwater meets saltwater, do both waterbodies acknowledge the other as foreign? There’s something mesmerizing and awe inspiring about water that goes far beyond its life-giving properties. Water calms, beckons, intimidates, thrills and overwhelms.
I’ve lived on the water’s edge in Central Ontario for more than 45 years and to this day I am filled with wonderment and joy each morning as I look out upon the lake. The lake is always beautiful, always calling me to come sit on the dock, walk on the shore and look at the waves or the mirrored images shining brightly on a still morning.
I feel equally small standing at the ocean’s edge as at the lake’s shore. There’s no doubt that home is where the heart is and for me, home and water take up equal space in my heart. The lake will be here long after I’m gone from its shore, I can only hope that it will remember me.
There’s always something happening down at the harbour, whether it be wildlife or human-related activity. One day late last week, things got very interesting with the arrival of two rival gangs. There was about to be a rumble – with feathers. Ducks on one side, Canada geese on the other… oh dear, the feathers were about to fly!
I got out of the car, took one look at the pending brawl, turned around and quickly scooted back into the car. Gang members turned to face one another other ducks staring down geese with steadfast conviction. A standoff ensued for what seemed to be minutes but was only a few seconds.
QUACK QUACK, HONK, QUACK, HONK HONK, QUACK HONK HONK QUACK QUACK QUACKKKKKK
Gang members on each side waddled up to flank their flock members, honking and quacking their support with great excitement. All anticipated a good old-fashioned tussle.
And just as everybirdie was ready to rush their adversaries, a door slammed closed in the nearby complex and out came FOOD. Food in the form of bread and seeds.
Seeds good, bread, not so good. I attempted to inform the bathrobe-clad woman that bread wasn’t good for birds but alas, she didn’t care, she didn’t even respond to my statement.
It was at this point that I realized that the squabbling birds were not a thread to one another or anyone else. The real threat was from this ignorant woman. Not because she didn’t respond to my concerns, but because she obviously really doesn’t care about the health and wellbeing of the feathered charges before her.
The ducks and geese were of course happy with their handout, but maybe in the future they will be treated to better quality treats.
Be well birdies, see you next time, and hey, no fighting, it’s a big harbour!
The leaves are gradually changing colour, lighting up the early Autumn landscape with splashes and swaths of glorious orange, gold, yellow, red, burgundy, crimson, brown and maroon splendour. In a week or so, the forests, roadsides and countryside will be at their peak, on fire with intense colour. Mother Nature’s fashion show: my favourite time of year is here again. I am grateful for the opportunity to enjoy another Autumn in central Ontario.
Around every corner is yet another inspirational scene.
Yellow daisy-like flowers spring up every Fall along this section of our backroad. I couldn’t resist taking a video of them as they were gently swaying in the early afternoon autumn breeze.
They are bewitching in the sunlight, so bright and cheery. Maybe the flowers are nature’s way of reminding those who pass by to slow down and enjoy them for a moment for winter is on it’s way soon.
Marshland, grasses and ground cover is equally stunning this time of year.
Soon winter will be here and the landscape will be blanketed in snow. But, I’ll be content to revive these memories of this Fall’s colour show.
Such reflection will see me through the cold winter, through the new, bright greens of spring and, God willing, eventually to the enjoyment of the splendour of another Autumn.