A little bird, within a tangled wood,
Sang sweetly to the forest solitude;
From matin hour to vesper time it sang —
Until the leafy woodland spaces rang
With such a chorus of ecstatic glee
That all the world seemed pulsing harmony …
Reelfoot Lake and the Mississippi River were at flood stage this past weekend. This had some of the little critters scrambling for a dry spot on higher ground.
My heart has no desire to stay
Where doubts arise and fears dismay;
Tho some may dwell where these abound,
my pray’r, my aim, is higher ground.
~Johnson Oatman, Jr.
These heron were doing some serious fishing out on flooded farm land near the Mississippi River. They crept along slowly … watching … listening … and then striking with lightening speed. Each strike was generally rewarded with a tiny silver fish.
“The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope.” ~John Buchan
During one of our recent walks, my husband pointed out this cloud formation that looked like an eagle’s head. It only lasted long enough to get a few shots before the higher winds swept it away.
~The clouds are always improvising, but the culprit is the wind.” ~Unknown