Two Hours Early
By John R. Greenwood
I was feeling nature deficient. My spirit was weak. I felt fresh air and autumn leaf deprived. My ears needed to hear the sound of early morning water lapping against a wood draped shore. I shut off my alarm, packed my freshly charged camera, grabbed a small pad and pen and headed for nearby Moreau Lake State Park. I parked in the lot just inside the main gate. It’s mid September and at 5:45am it was still midnight dark. I grabbed my pack and headed down the access road to the beach. My hope was to be there before the sun came up. Off I went.
Pre-dawn sounds rustled in the dark thickness along the roads edge.They soothed me like a fountain with some magic power. A moon, two days past full, hung on for dear life and filled the morning with gasping light leftovers. After a short walk I arrived at the beach and stood at the edge of the shore. With a slight tilt of my head I heard a sound I hadn’t heard in many years, maybe decades. It came from atop the ridge above. A wise owl sang a song for me. The melody softened my heart like a newborn listening to his mother’s whispered song. I stood there stump-still and savored each note hoo’ed from above. Fish splashed in the shadows, just out of sight, teasing me like playful children peaking around corners, giggling as they disappear before my squinting eyes can catch their joy. Visions drift by, of a lonely fishing pole parked on the back wall of the garage. Hopes of catching that last September trout will taunt him till spring.
This is the world we need to share. Peace and quiet, always such a cute couple, yet seldom do we see them walking hand-in-hand anymore.
I sat on a damp picnic table near the water’s edge and weaved myself into the sand and sky. I was invisible to myself yet tall unto the world. I was two hours early on that September morning, and that made all the difference.
So, John, besides breaking a pesky park rule, you had a feathery fly by, a beaver busying for breakfast, a certain stillness interrupted- "Holy S***" seems quite appropriate, all in all a natural progression to a lovely autumnal day! You've made this truck driver's wife smile . :)
ReplyDeleteBad words totally appropriate. You had to be there. Early arrivals at the park are 100% acceptable and you can go anywhere you like, but the gate to the back side of the lake doesn't open until 8am. I would never think of breaking a rule. I can't tell you how much fun that was in real time. It was like a Blue Thunder Fly-Over.
DeleteSplendid capture of a magical hour at Moreau Lake. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the post and the photos, John!
ReplyDeleteThe blues in the lake and sky are gorgeous! And an owls song as well! I need to come back as my sound wasn't working and I want to hear that video! (I'll be back)
ReplyDeleteI too am always stopped in my tracks to hear the sounds of an owl off in the distance. What is it about the sounds of owls that intrigue us so? -- barbara
ReplyDeleteA beautifully worded post that moved me and had me wanting to return to New York. Then I watched the video and laughed out loud! Thanks for the variety.
ReplyDeleteAnother masterpiece. Loved the words and the incredibly timely video (with commentary).
ReplyDeleteDiane