Seeing red in a snow storm

Yesterday I wrote to many of you in order to share the deep comfort I felt, in the sun, on the dock, in my shirt sleeves, watching juvenile loons basking in the warm sunlight falling on the quiet lake. Today is another story! Molly and I got out early anticipating the snow to come. Come it has— and with it one of the favourite males in my life came to keep us company.

Shooting into the sun

This week Molly and I have enjoyed spectacular weather. On our walk to the lock last evening a juvenile loon was curious about who I was so swam quite close to the dock. It was touching to see how it checked me out—diving then emerging closer swimming parallel while watching me, then diving and coming closer again. Of course I did not have my camera so today Molly reminded me and I sat on the dock , back against the canal marker, sun in my face warm wood beneath me and I watched. The lake was blanketed with stillness. The juvenile loons sounded almost like Arctic loons today with their cat like call. They were not curious about me today but none the less it was lovely to see them swimming idly past one another. If I had not been shooting into the sun I may have gotten some better shots but none the less they will serve as a reminder to me of this last ( I think) glorious warm jacket- free November day— November 19 2016

Moon rise Nov.13

and tomorrow it will be full but incase of cloud cover tomorrow night Molly said “Come Maggie! Shoot the moon now!”. So I did. Maybe there will be more tomorrow but we never know what the morrow brings.

I hope you enjoy these and are not sick of my moon shots

Sunflower in snow

When the East wind hurls ice pellets and snow on cheeks far more accustomed to warm weather, and shoulders hunker over to navigate the cold, it seems strange, after an October 26 “Walk to the Lock” with Molly to stare into the exquisite face of a Sunflower in Snow.

Moon rise over Newboro Lake Oct 15 2016

Sometimes there are just no words to capture the beauty of silence

Sleepless nights encore

The moon is full.  For two nights in a row I have been unable to sleep. It may have something to do with Molly’s loud admonition of some nocturnal “enemy" of hers. I suspect it is deer she responds to so sharply because there is no smell of skunk and my vegetable garden remains intact. Having sun-ripened  tomatoes, fresh corn, beans, and crispy kale is the reward I get for "sentinel Molly’s" 2 a.m. shout -outs.

This night there is a soft breeze lifting the pine needles giving the sifting sound that only breeze through needles can give. Popcorn-like altocumulus clouds separate  the moon and me and as  they pass I see the stars. Night sounds of crickets, loons, owls, and coyotes have a different resonance under a full moon. Last night, when there was but an edge to its complete its fullness  I wrote:

I could not sleep tonight so rose to look at the nearly full moon that made the fainter stars disappear and long shadows cross the lawn. As I stood there on my veranda I first heard one great horned owl calling out from in the woods across the lock. The moon and the owl were enchanting. Then, in the beauty of the moment, and in the stillness of the night, another owl responded, its voice carrying across the lake's waveless water. There we were— the four of us. Two owls, the moon and me. Sometimes sleepless nights have golden linings.

Geese, Turtles, and Gorgeous Stumps: Duck Bay Little Rideau

The 4th Sept 2016 was a spectacular day to be anywhere but especially in Duck bay

Gorgeous stumps

When I got home the juvenile pileated woodpecker was at the feeder