The beautiful Tulip Polar trees are flowering.
Took this picture with my phone at work last week. It’s an Osprey nest. One of the Osprey flew off right as I snapped the photo. You can see him to the bottom left of the nest. The Osprey or fish hawk as they are sometimes called can have a wing span of 71 inches. They’re pretty awesome. My phone has a pretty bad zoom on it, but wanted to share the picture with you even though it’s a little fuzzy. 🙂 You can click the photo, then click again to enlarge for a little better look.
We were in the deep freeze last week with -5 F temps and -25 wind chill. Then Saturday we had a lovely warm up. It got up to 55 degrees. I thought that was fantastic, but then yesterday it made it to 65 degrees with sunny skies. So I had to take advantage and take a long, lovely walk. Spent two hours walking in nature and found this beautiful little gem. A lovely and unexpected surprise. I love covered bridges.
Photos from my last couple of walks. Colors are breathtaking this year.
“SONG OF THE RIVER”
The snow melts on the mountain
And the water runs down to the spring,
And the spring in a turbulent fountain,
With a song of youth to sing,
Runs down to the riotous river,
And the river flows on to the sea,
And the water again
Goes back in rain
To the hills where it used to be.
And I wonder if Life’s deep mystery
Isn’t much like the rain and the snow
Returning through all eternity
To the places it used to know.
For life was born on the lofty heights
And flows in a laughing stream
To the river below
Whose onward flow
Ends in a peaceful dream.
And so at last,
When our life has passed
And the river has run its course,
It again goes back,
O’er the selfsame track,
To the mountain which was its source.
So why prize life
Or why fear death,
Or dread what is to be?
The river ran its allotted span
Till it reached the silent sea.
Then the water harked back to the mountaintop
To begin its course once more.
So we shall run the course begun
Till we reach the silent shore,
Then revisit earth in a pure rebirth
From the heart of the virgin snow.
So don’t ask why we live or die,
Or wither, or when we go,
Or wonder about the mysteries
That only God may know.
by William Randolph Hearst