A few days ago Kelley and I went to Carkeek Park, just to trundle about and smell spring. We stopped by the creek, as we always do and listened to its burble and chatter. It sounded different: lighter and less serious. I was about to mention this to Kelley when I realised I'd been staring at something for nearly a minute without seeing it:
I said to Kelley, You see it, right? She opened her mouth, to say (I could tell), See what? but then her eyes rounded, and she nodded. We watched the heron for several minutes. It studied the water intently. I can't imagine what it thought it might catch; as far as I'm aware there aren't fish or frogs at this time of year. But perhaps it knows best. It certainly seemed settled. At one point it turned it head:
But then it went back to its watery watch and forgot us. We continued on our walk, then went home and had lunch. But I found myself thinking of the heron on and off all afternoon, and how life is like that: wonderful surprises around every corner, if only you can see.
