As our situation becomes daily more surreal, it is increasingly hard to stay positive and Grant rather gloomily urges that we should enjoy as many car rides as we can, while we can.
He visualises a police state in our future and considering how far we’ve already come, who am I to say he’s wrong?
Part of my own gloom may be attributed to the book I’ve been reading, a new novel by a favourite author Eliot Pattison. “Death of Days” is different to his other books, an involved tale about an ex-CIA agent and the convoluted mission he gets sent on by his estranged father.
In truth, I had trouble keeping step with the twists and turns of the very complicated plot, but it is the underlying message that is disturbing. I won’t reveal it, lest you should read the book. Suffice it to say, I saw an uncomfortable truth in it.
Time to return to something lighter.
Comforting tales of a rural French Chef de Police, his basset hound and horse.
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Friday morning Ralph the peacock stopped by for a snack and a chat, after which we took a short excursion across the border to Vermont. A permanent crossing of the northern border might be a good move right now, but there are complications with that move.
Earlier on Friday the Cooper’s hawk was back, once again chasing a large squirrel and this time, it looked almost as if they were playing, the squirrel darting out to taunt the bird which clearly couldn’t quite see how he could pull off such an ambitious plan.
The interaction reminded me of Fum and Gebra:
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What is it about this sort of relationship that is so delightful?
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Grant has many of these routes memorised. I can no longer recall directions but I do think it makes a difference if you are driving as opposed to sightseeing. At least, that is my excuse.
It had been some time since we last came this way.
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In the Spring last year, Grant picked up some supplies near here and meandering as we do, we’d come upon this wetland. As it was early in the year, there was far less vegetation, so this day it looked quite different.
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Now, I could tell a fib and pretend we saw this kingfisher there, but he had actually been perched on a twig over near Stump Church a few days earlier. We looked around for its Vermont cousin, but it was not at home to us.
There are many wetlands in this area, but in all the time we’ve been driving around, this is only the second kingfisher we’ve seen.
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The tall reeds and the wildflowers are lovely.
But where were the wildfowl?
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Nowhere in sight, but the reflections were good.
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Something else I always feel compelled to photograph.
The water here was crystal clear.
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The wetland continues on the other side of the road, barely visible at this time of year.
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Still hoping for wildfowl, we moved on to a more open expanse where, in the distance, Grant saw what he thought might be evidence of a beaver lodge. I activated the zoom but until the image was downloaded, I couldn’t say what it was…
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Not beavers! A nest (or a dole) of turtles on a piece of driftwood.
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Part of the reason for taking this route was to come back along River Road – the Vermont/Battenkill one.
Curious, I asked AI for a count of River Roads in the USA – too many to count. How about New York State? – ditto:
“because road naming is managed independently by each of the state’s 251 towns and cities.”
How inefficient.
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On the riverbank, sunlight fell on a patch of Joe pyeweed, so I yelled “Stop!”
Dappled sunlight – another must photograph.
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Across the river – Echinocystis or wild cucumber. It grows all over everything but this is its native habitat, so it is not considered invasive. Just a nuisance, then.
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But the flowers are dainty and very pretty.
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Only because we’d stopped, Grant caught sight of mergansers paddling up the river.
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Three of them were camera-shy, apparently!
They swam away out of sight, but if we were quick, we’d catch them at the bridge…
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There they were – a sweet little family of five.
Token wildfowl.
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