When it rains it pours. Once again I have validated this old say. But such is life. Every now and then we are reminded that we are not in control of our own life, and even less so of the lives of the people close to us. We need to accept what comes our way and adjust. There is no other way.
This has also been true for the Osprey Family. Towards the end of April they still had two hatchlings, but it seems that – like in the last three years – the younger one didn’t make it past week three. I have learned to accept this as a way of nature to ensure that at least one strong chick fledges. And this one is growing very fast, here pictured at about four weeks (above) and five weeks (below)old with proud Mama Sandy.
My assistant and I have seen the Osprey Family somewhat regularly, mostly at sunset time on our way to the doggy park. And I have to say Mr. D. is behaving truly well with the birds. And that now includes the many ducks at the salt marsh. He’s truly earned his diploma.
On our way home we often walk right under the osprey nest and the other night we witnessed Sandy and the chick waiting for a late supper at sunset.
Sandy was nodding off, but the chick was alert examining its surroundings. But where was Papa Stanley?
We walked over to the bayside and spotted Miss Rosa working on her dinner.
And to my delight, the Skimmers were back! We have since spotted them also at the salt marsh.
Papa Stanley’s favorite perch at the Sailing Center was empty. I scanned the bay and the sky and finally found him far away, close to the opposite shore. He was fishing.
He spotted a fish several times, got ready to dive but aborted in the last minute. We followed his attempts with great interest but finally had to leave before he caught a fish. Right after we got home, we heard some noise over the salt marsh… and a huge bird was landing only a stone throw from the osprey nest.
There were several emergency vehicles close to the landing site and after about five minutes on the ground, the huge bird flew off again. It was transporting someone to a trauma center in a bigger hospital on the mainland.
Whoever that person was we wished him or her the best. Mama Sandy is used to see such a huge bird in the park every now and then, but I’m sure the little one was quite puzzled by the noise and the size of that bird.
We have also taken a couple of walks at the Taylor Park. It’s been more quiet there too, but we spotted a tiny Least Bittern which I have never before seen in the wild.
A beautiful Green Heron was running on the shore vegetation…
… and a red-bellied Woodpecker was working a big tree right above the trail.
And, of course, we spotted an Anhinga. It was reading the warning sign and then checking the water…
… and there it was – a large alligator. It was taking a keen interest in me and my assistant and when it started to glide closer to the shore, we decided it was time to leave.
So yesterday Dylan and I decided to go out in the afternoon’s heat and check on the ospreys. We saw Papa Stanley taking in the sun on his favorite perch on the bayside. He was keeping an eye on the nest…and us.
When we arrived at the salt marsh, the little one was showing of its impressive wingspan to Mama Sandy.
We sat on “my” bench in the shade and watched them. Soon we discovered that the little one not only exercises its wings already, but has also learned to talk. When Sandy started asking for an afternoon snack, the chick joined her in the fish-fish-song! They both knew that Stanley was close by and could hear them.
We were about to go back home when the song went up to falsetto… a sign that food was on the way! We could see Stanley circling around the nest and then landing with a long, slim fish, head already eaten of course.
Sandy managed the placement of the fish and started eating it together with the little one. Stanley sat happily on the other side of the nest. We left the family to enjoy their snack and promised ourselves to be there when the chick is fledging, probably within the next one week or so.
Once I can determine whether it’s a boy or a girl, we will have the name draw again. Thanks for coming along and please check back soon again.
I have to say the salt marsh fared quite well. Most of the old, tall trees are still standing. But the debris took weeks to clear out.
When I visited the park on my day at home between the storm and my trip to Europe, there were no birds. They had all stayed at their evacuation resorts. Apart from one.
Papa Stanley was perching at the sailing center. He had returned to check out his forest and his home. Or maybe he was looking for Mama Sandy. I’m pretty sure he saw the nest had not been damaged…before he took off again.
When I came back from my trip in October most of the debris had been hauled away and I found this ‘monument’ at a small clearing where several trees had fallen. But only a couple of birds had returned. Among those Mama Sandy. She was perching at the nest looking a bit tousled, very serious and definitely wet. It was good to see that she, too, had made it through the storm. But now Papa Stanley was nowhere to be seen.
A lonely Tri-colored Heron was trying to figure out how to find something to eat despite the still very high water levels at the marsh. And that was it. The evacuees were slow to return.
Late that evening, Dylan and I spotted the young Great Blue Heron on the bay. He too seemed to wonder where everyone had gone.
And so it continued for about three weeks. I started to get worried about Papa Stanley. He had made it through Irma’s 120 m/h wind gusts, but why was he not home? And where were all the other residents, including the Mayor, the Clown and Miss Rosa?
Then one morning in early November I looked out of my office window and discovered a large gathering at the marsh. That was a great sight…and out I ran to witness the return of the evacuees and the migrating visitors.
Finally the marsh was busy. Great Egrets, Snowy Egrets, Ibis, Wood Storks and others.
The younger GBH, who now looks very much like the Mayor, was patrolling the waters in his typical manner, pretending to be the boss. Some of the Wood Storks gave him the look.
That’s when I saw a familiar fellow in the corner of my eye. The Mayor had returned! He was foraging far away, completely undisturbed.
Knowing the history of these two, I thought things might get interesting. And before long, the Mayor discovered his young rival. He decided to check on the youngster.
The young fellow noticed the developments. But he didn’t back off from his newly acquired position of power. Looking determined he continued his march…
… until he realized the Mayor was running on water. And closing in on him.
The Mayor took a detour onto a grassy islet, but continued his approach with determination.
Tension was building. Everybody was watching.
That’s when I discovered that the Reddish Egret, the Clown, had returned. He was not performing his usual tricks. Instead, he stood frozen in place under some mangroves. Watching.
The little Snowy Egret, who was hiding in the grass close to the scene, decided it was better to keep some distance. One never knew what could happen.
The Mayor continued his march, and finally the two ‘great blues’ were face to face.
And this is what happened…
A couple of days ago, Dylan and I went to the dog park in the middle of the day…and found the same crowd at the marsh – minus the younger ‘great blue’. The party was still going on. The Clown discovered my camera and decided to perform an elaborate bathing ritual for his captive audience.
We left this delightful ‘photobomber’ happily sitting in the shallow water. Normalcy has returned to the salt marsh.
Some of you may wonder what happened to Miss Rosa. I was pondering that too, until the other night. Dylan and I discovered her all alone at the marsh at sunset time. And she was there even last night. She is definitely back home too.
Opening my terrace door this morning, I discovered that both Mama Sandy and Papa Stanley were at the nest. That was remarkable. But Stanley’s early visit didn’t last long. Sandy told him in no uncertain terms to wait at least 4-5 more weeks. And promptly chased him away. He will be allowed in the nest only after a proposal dance and a special gift delivery. Traditions have to be respected. And everything has its right time.
I noted that Irma, however powerful, had not been able to sweep the nest clean of building materials Sandy had put in place last year. But this couple will still need to do quite a bit of remodeling when the nesting season starts at the end of December.
the top of my suitcase right after opening it. But there is more. And it’s much harder to unpack. The bottom layer of my ‘virtual suitcase’ is heavy with memories all the way from my childhood. Some now wrinkled, others still vivid.
After losing our mother to cancer in our teen years, we “the sisters”, were blessed to have the world’s best dad with us until this past July. A WWII veteran, despite of failing health in the last couple of years, he was sharp as a knife until the day he passed on. Here pictured at 19 in his military uniform and on his 90th birthday a few years ago. An ironman with the heart of gold. His love is still vividly felt and his wise counsel missed on a daily basis.
It was hard to put dad’s house on the market, the house he built with his own hands and where we grew up. But since none of us could live there, it had to be done. My sister and I remembered how we used to have a ‘grocery store’ right under the enclosed front porch. Among other neatly packed goods, we ‘sold’ sand in used wheat flour bags…to whomever walked by. Great for pancakes, we used to advertise. So many happy memories.
In the last picture I took of the house, the wild wines seemed to form a colorful heart on the wall. Symbolic of the love that lived in this house. And that is how I will always remember it.
I packed what little I could carry in my suitcases, the most precious memories. When I left for the last time on that overcast Saturday morning, they were filled with melancholy and gratitude.
The old Loon I had seen on every visit in the past few years made an appearance far out on the lake, as if saying goodbye.
I traveled to London. I would have a Sunday stopover in this familiar city before continuing to Milan for work early on Monday. I would pull myself together.
Sunday was a gorgeous autumn day. I rode double-deckers, took a boat ride on the Thames and walked for miles. The brilliant fall colors in Hyde Park reminded me it was the season of change. But that was hard to accept.
I wanted to dwell on memories crafted with my husband in this city. I revisited places I remembered from our honeymoon and several subsequent visits. I passed the Trafalgar Square, where were used to walk among the pigeons. Nelson was still there.
I passed the Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral, where my husband had photographed the beautiful interiors such a long time ago.
I walked around the Tower of London, where we had fun adventures as newlyweds. The landscape around it had changed remarkably. The famous Gherkin, the Shard and other modern glass towers now filled the skyline.
The newest tower was still under construction, but already invited prospective buyers to visit model apartments. This reminded me that while the old and familiar was still there, new experiences would be added to the fabric of life.
The Big Ben at the Parliament buildings had fallen silent. At some point age tends to catch up. But hopefully, when the extensive repairs have been completed in 2021, its famous chimes will be heard again.
The 3500 years old Egyptian obelisk at the Thames, Cleopatra’s Needle, brought back both our honeymoon and our last visit to this city just a few years ago. I could still see myself behind the camera and husband sitting on that sphinx on the right.
And passing the London Eye, I realized I had to learn to look into the future, however difficult and meaningless that may feel at the moment.
I knew that sooner or later I had to cross that misty bridge to the next phase of my life.
And with that I was on my way to Milan and my Italian experience, grateful for what had been and what was yet to come.
It was, indeed, the season of change. And I had to accept that.
I would take the Red Arrow, Frecciarossa, from Milan where I had been working. Two hours and 55 minutes from city center to city center. 297 km/h. In birthday style.
After a hearty breakfast and a short nap, I arrived…to a different time.
Traveling through the city center, I passed many beautiful structures. When I could see the walls of the Roman Forum, I knew I was approaching my destination.
I got out of the carriage. The horses looked exhausted after navigating through the city.
It was a gorgeous late September day. I admired the great works of the Romans, and was in no hurry at all …
…to enter the Colosseum. I decided to linger outside for a while. I knew the hunts and wild animal fights usually took place there in the mornings. I could almost hear the cheers of the crowd, over 50,000 people packed inside…watching the combats and waiting for the public executions that usually started around noon. Later, in the afternoon and early evening, they would witness gladiator games and combats.
Finally I went inside.
Looking up from the ground floor, I could ‘see’ the elaborate private boxes where the noble and upper-class families enjoyed non-stop entertainment. The more gruesome, the better. The plebs tightly packed on the marble seats of the upper tiers.
Although there were about 100 drinking fountains for the spectators sprinkled on the upper floors, the underground hosted most of the facilities. 
I climbed stairs and walked the ancient corridors pondering about the four centuries this arena was in active use. The entertainment here was elaborate and expensive. At some point the cost accounted for about 1/3 of the Roman annual revenue.
As a result, about 2/3 of the original structures were destroyed, until the restoration efforts started in the 1990s.
I hopped off at the Castel of St. Angelo and decided to walk to the Vatican.
It was quite a walk, but luckily I am well-trained by Dylan. Approaching the St. Peter’s Basilica, I was suddenly thrown back in time.
I briefly ‘saw’ my husband happily sitting in that square all those years ago.
But that picture had already been taken. He was not there. Instead the place was very crowded. Hundreds of people were lining up for entrance.
I decided to continue my walk and visit the Vatican museums instead.
I needed to experience beauty. Art. Food for my soul. And there was plenty. Like this famous painting of Adam and Eve by Wenzel Peter.
Fantastic paintings in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
And many sculptures, ancient and modern, like the “Sphere within Sphere” by Arnoldo Pomodoro in the museum gardens.
Not to mention a large collection of icons and other paintings.
What surprised me was the sizable collection of Egyptian artefacts.
At the end of the day I had seen a lot. I had also walked a lot, over 20,000 steps. I was completely ready for a meal freely allowed on birthdays. Quattro Stagioni. Pizza at an Osteria next to my hotel.
I wish you all…a Happy Birthday if you happen to have one, or just solid, ordinary days this coming week. Those days are the best. Be here and breathe deep.
 Soon, with lightning speed
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