Shadow and majesty glided overhead as a blue heron landed right where I was taking afternoon photos along the Ogunquit River. It floated down silently, gracefully, then took a few deliberate steps before standing confidently before me. These sad, cropped photos hardly do the creature justice, but its beauty and magnificence could barely be captured by anything other than an in-person experience. Such enchantment is not to be harnessed for the likes of a blog, though I hope some residual magic remains in the idea and spirit and respect offered to this wonder.
I’ve always had an affinity with the cranes and herons of the world – the way they hold their elegant heads high, allowing whatever raging water of a stream or river to flow chaotically around their stalwart legs, maintaining composure and grace in the face of riotous surroundings. Betsy pointed out that I have a lot of clothing items with cranes and birds on them – confirmation that my soul is made for flight, my heart is designed to soar, and my thoughts are as insubstantial as the wispiest cloud in the sky.
