February 21, 2024
After four days off, I returned to work. Early mornings, however, were mine, so after a coffee and time with the dogs, I wrote for a couple of hours. It was a quiet morning, but I knew work would be busy. It’s always hectic coming back to hundreds of emails in your inbox. Today, my goal was to take it slow and move at nature’s pace, calm but steady.
I took lunch at the Wiggins Mill Reservoir. Last year, I read the city budgeted improvements for the area, including walking trails and public restrooms. Because I had not been to this reservoir for some time, I opted to visit, since it was relatively close to my area.
The entrance to the reservoir was inconspicuous. I made the left turn onto the dirt road, heading past a small parking area. This dirt road crosses a small inlet which begins a narrow drive surrounded by hundred-year-old pines and wild magnolia trees. The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the water was that nothing new was going on. There was no construction or any signs of change, which, honestly, was fine by me.
I parked and took a walk to the water that connected to the inlet. This area looks swampy, with several tree stumps poking through the slow-moving water. The Contentnea Creek connects the Buckhorn Reservoir to Wiggins Mill. This creek also offshoots to the small creek on my property. After a few minutes I spotted a blue heron wading in the shallow water, hunting.
The heron was small, but not overly shy. I watched as it crept through the water. Each step slowed down in time. The heron’s neck was curled, but every so often, it would stretch high to get a better look at the water. I am always impressed with this bird’s patience. I photograph herons often and, like today, I held my camera with its heavy telephoto lens, poised, waiting for the statuesque bird to strike the water. The heron froze, waiting for a small fish to approach. I held my position, my arms burning from the isometric tension. A minute passed by, then two. In a flash, the heron struck the water like a snake, pulling out a small blue gill tangled in lake grass. The bird tossed the fish up in the air, catching it as the grass fell away. In a single gulp, the fish was gone.
It was impressive to see how these birds handle the spiny fins of fish. When handling blue gills, I sometimes get poked by a fin which draws a little blood. I don’t know how birds can swallow these spiny, floppy things. I also noticed that herons like to eat their prey clean, often tossing the fish to release any grass or sediment before ingesting the food. Last year, a trail camera at my creek caught a heron with a large bullfrog in its mouth. The heron dipped the frog repeatedly into the creek and shook its head, appearing to wash the large frog before it ate the poor amphibian whole.
When I was leaving the reservoir, an old Chevrolet pickup truck pulled up and a little old man exited, grabbing his fishing gear, an old rod and net, from his truck bed. He was going fishing, and I was both happy for him, and a little jealous. I arrived home with a few minutes to spare before my next online meeting.
After work, I went into the woods for last light. When I stepped out of my front door, there were several deer grazing in the pasture, just past the barn. They looked up at me and kept feeding. I snapped a few pictures, turned east, and headed into the pine grove. I took a short walk through the forest, with plans to return after a half hour, because I wanted to make a fire in the pit before it was completely dark.
The moon, while not full, glowed brightly. I photographed it through the tree limbs, which made for an interesting picture. It was always surprising seeing a photograph of the moon through a modern telephoto lens. You can see the various “seas”, marked by dark spots on the satellite’s surface. Craters on the bottom side of the moon were visible and the rims of the craters pushed past the moon’s edge, looking like mountains jutting toward the earth’s horizon. It was a gorgeous night.
When I returned home, I split some firewood and made kindling. Within a few minutes, I had a roaring fire to warm myself. Even though it was crisp outside, I felt fine in a long-sleeved shirt with no jacket. I sat outside by the fire, enjoying a cold Daycation IPA made by Highland Brewing, which I drank from one of the frozen mason jars housed in the freezer. Tonight was special. It was the last night I would be apart from my lovely wife. She lived in a different city for the past month for one of her medical rotations, but tomorrow afternoon, she would finish her rotation and return. We were both very excited about this. While it seemed like she had left forever ago, it also felt like the month had gone by in a flash. Tomorrow night, I’ll be sitting by the fire, looking up at the Big Dipper and Orion, and then looking over and seeing my wife’s smiling face. It’s going to be a great night.
Inside, my rice cooker was making a batch of Kagayaki short-grained rice. I fired up the Traeger grill and let it heat before throwing on a tenderized ribeye I coated with olive oil, salt, and pepper. The thick marbled steak turned out amazing. Last month, I bought a couple of steaks from the local Piggly Wiggly, which carried great cuts of meat at sensible prices. The steaks tasted different, almost grassy or gamey, so I had not eaten their red meat in a while. Tonight’s ribeye, however, was back to normal standards, which rivaled any steakhouse I’ve visited. I ate half of my steak with the steamed white rice and cut up the rest to add to the dogs’ dinner.
After a shower to wash off the smoke, I went to bed, flipping through pictures of when we first arrived in North Carolina. Mostly, I just stared at my wife's face and felt happy, knowing that I would snuggle up to her tomorrow night. Time is an odd dimension. It can move so slowly and quickly all at the same time.