Flags of summer wave a fresh hello.
And that is - finally!
Pine needles' warm scent swirls through the forest and I'm back to my childhood days at Rocky Point on Chatcolet Lake.
Crossbill fledglings leap frogging each other down the railing vying for the next treat from mom's beak. She backs away each time trying to get some peace and quiet.
The fawn I saw tenderly prance across the neighbors beach by itself bolts for safety after spotting Lily and me. I get in the car later to make sure there isn't a doe somewhere on the side of the road. I worry.
The fawn, the young ducklings that went from 11 to 3 now to 2 in a couple of days. The young duck family is having a hard time finding a way to protect them from dogs? raccoons? They're all problematic out here.
I found a nest today that had big feathers all over it protecting it, but there hasn't been a parent in the nest for days. I feel inside and there are tiny white cold eggs. I wonder what happened. Was it all that cold and rain?
It's tough out there and I try not to anthropomorphize my feelings, but it's hard to see things any other way.
Walking home, in the middle of the road, there's a large turtle - totally unexpected around here. They are in some of the shallow lakes and ponds near here but we're in a deep water area. He's climbed a 40 foot slope up to cross the quiet road to our house. I can't figure out what he might be trying to go to and take him back down to the beach. He sits there a moment gets in the water and submerges. He's gone.
Innocence and vulnerability strike me as the forest unfolds. Our impact is as hard as steel and loud and unforgiving. Big, fast, loud boats and cars, - loose dogs and cats...I compare the two worlds and I worry.
Sometimes it just feels we just don't really get it.