A change in the weather came this week. We transitioned from days that were sunny, hot, and dry to days of dark, cold, and wet. The rapid change made for lovely sights in the wetlands and ponds. Mists rose and were shaped by chilly breezes, staged before an emerald background of fresh new leaves. Soon the weather will change again that is one of the things we can really count upon, isn’t it?
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Always looking around as I travel, a river scene I’d spied caused me to whip the little Insight into a just-big-enough gravel spot alongside the road. As I was crossing a ford over the East Branch Rocky River, I’d spotted a lone Great Blue Heron standing in the dark, slow-moving waters. The bird was surrounded by dark green foliage lining the river banks and was lit by the morning sun. All I had with me was my trusty Canon PowerShot G11, but you use what you’ve got! I hopped from the car and gingerly headed back to the ford. The heron was far enough away it did not regard me as a threat and went about the business of catching breakfast. A few shots of the heron striding across the shallow river and I turned to take a few more images of the upstream view. A beautiful morning but, as usual, I had places to go and was already running late. Sigh. Good morning!
In the early evening the sun shined bright through scattered, billowing clouds. Cloud edges glowed bright white while the bodies appeared dark with lighter areas betraying layers.
As light flowed through the hazy atmosphere shadows and streams, rivers of light and shadow, formed rays* high above our heads. It was a fine show for anyone willing to look up, made by clouds, and sun, and a bit of air.
*This is the very definition of “crepuscular rays.” Go ahead, use the term, impress your friends!
Thursday morning was beautiful. The day began cool, bright, and fresh. Wild plants reflected those conditions. Looking around as I drove, I spied an area in the woods where spikes of wild hyacinth (Camassia scilloides) were spotlit by sun. Spots of sun, breaking through the burgeoning leaves of the woodland canopy, illuminated the lavender-tinted petals and they “popped” against the dark ground below.
Of course I pulled my car over and spent a few minutes photographing leaves and flowers. If I wasn’t due some place I would have easily spent an hour exploring and photographing. Duty, however, had a strong pull.
I spent only a few minutes but those few minutes were a great start that green day morning.
I made an all-too-brief stop at David Fortier River Park in Olmsted Falls this morning. It has, for a very long time, been one of my favorite places. I had my little Canon PowerShot G11 camera with me and managed to capture a number of “keeper” images. The filtered morning light in the ravine was lovely in the dim light where water flows over smooth rocks, trees and moss add a green softness to the scene.
Exploring places new to us, Sunday we paid a visit to the Castalia Quarry location of Erie MetroParks. The huge, open limestone pit is mostly dry and surrounded by wooded trails. Visitors must be cautious and are warned, in park literature, not to stray from the designated paths; there are no fences protecting visitors from steep cliffs with rocky floors below.
The place was mentioned as a good location to see birds and we heard a good many. The airshow, however, belonged to a species many revile or connect only with spooky images of death and decay … the Turkey Vulture (Cathartes aura). What the big, black birds may lack in looks, they more than make up for in flight. We usually see them riding thermals over open spaces seeking carrion upon which to feed. Their keen sense of smell leads them to their meals, the bird’s eye view guides final approach, and their nearly-featherless heads and open nostrils make their butcher’s work, um, cleaner.
This day, however, the big birds seemed almost to enjoy soaring on powerful updrafts created by lake breezes driven against the sheer rock cliffs of the quarry. Maybe a dozen vultures swooped and kited, back and forth, up and down over the rock pit. Standing near a cliff we watched as birds zoomed up, out of the stony depths in front of us, and went rocketing into the sky.
What a thrill it was to watch the buzzards in flight! They may not be much to look at but oh, how they fly!
While some like only bright, sunny days, I find harmony and inspiration in the melancholy nature of a day like today. The light is soft, the skies gray, a soft mist occasionally falls, colors are more intense, the world and my soul a little quieter.
On a lark (impending pun intended) we set off to visit the Magee Marsh Wildlife Area today. It was a gorgeous, sunny day making travel, then walking the trail, a pleasure. Magee Marsh is a birder’s hot-spot due to the large protected wooded wetland set along the south shores of Lake Erie. It is a perfect spot for migratory birds to rest and refuel before or after their non-stop flights over the Great Lake. In the wildlife area, through bird songs were delightfully the dominant sounds around, we saw no exotic avian visitors. We caught a glimpse of a large bird, possibly an immature Bald Eagle, as it winged past — too much of a surprise for me to catch via camera. We did enjoy the color and the amazing aerobatics of the colorful resident Barn Swallows. One posed for a portrait, shown here. Most beautiful, though not pictured, were the many, many Great Egrets we saw in wet areas all around the area. We do admire our fine feathered friends!
I visited the Alderfer-Oenslager Wildlife Sanctuary of the Medina County Park System this afternoon, seeking the season’s first dragonflies. None were to be seen there. It was, however, a splendid afternoon for a little stroll around the grounds and it’s not like nothing else was worth looking at! The ponds were fairly still and alive with the ripples caused by likely thousands of water-striding insects milling about, doubtless seeking mates. The first lily pads floated, soaking up the day’s sunshine while others could be seen stretching up from beneath the surface. Wriggling amongst the reeds and algae near waters’ edge were hundreds of tadpoles, somehow sensing my presence and quickly hiding. And oh, what’s that, lying in wait for the careless passing fish or tadpole? A medium-sized snapping turtle sat in the mud, barely submerged and barely exposed. The pond may display quiet beauty above, but there’s danger below!
My dragonflies? Oh, they’re likely crawling around underwater in their nymph phase: a terrifying aquatic insect (if you’re a small critter they might find tasty) and will emerge in due course, um, to stalk the skies.


















