I understand that Buddhism teaches mindfulness by recommending that we choose one colour to notice through the day. Sometimes the locus of my focus, as it were, isn’t a colour but a letter, and more easily identified retrospectively.
Life can only be understood backwards,
but it must be lived forwards.
– Soren Kierkegaard
One day last week, as I lived forwards, G turned out to be for . . .
As I walked slowly from the paved path to the edge of the artificial lake at Gilbert Water Ranch, I accidentally flushed this guy from a stand of grass where he was hiding. He lit out across the water and disappeared into a thicket of leafless branches.
And then he moved. Ah ha! Invisible no more.
Putting my camera on its maximum zoom and then cropping by about half, I got this photo. I’ve been closer to other green herons and got better shots as a result (and worse, sigh), but this is such a typical pose: Fisher, Intent. I am *so* glad not to be the object of his desire.
These guys hide among (hang out with?) miscellaneous ducks on the artificial lake. Resolutely un-flashy — no strong/bright markings, no dunking-and-wing-flapping displays — they just sort of drift along, under the radar (sonar?). But I scan for something that triggers my that’s-not-a-duck reaction and eventually I see one.
Smaller than ducks, with lesser tails, they also have differently shaped heads. They look kinda cute. Until I take good note of that beak.
I don’t pay much attention to grasses per se, but I do like them in reflection, both wavy and still. Mind you, with the heron, duck, grebe, and turtle traffic, this pond is rarely still.