Wonderful late light today on this mid-February day.
A wood duck is about to land on the fence at the right.
I took this picture with the iPad Air2, which has a great camera.
Though it feels extremely weird to take pictures
with a thin slab the shape of a small magazine,
and one with no knurled knobs or stick-out lenses.
A slow crow crosses the street; I stop the car to let him fly.
Slight spring rain on the footbridge, on streamside willows,
on the merganser couple floating just upstream; on lupine leaves
and buds, on the single tall stalk of blue bloom.
As I cross the bridge, startled mallards take flight.
Bright green young clover leaves spill under the fence and beyond.
Golden willow buds tremble above fragrant California sage.
All this with sunset cloud; I'll come back tomorrow.
Eucalyptus branches--dry berries, dry leaves--dislodged by rains.
A sycamore hollow, then another, to summon faery folk.
Tucked amid rank grasses, tiny mustard blossoms. This tangle
of wild roses beginning to leaf, will the mergansers nest here?
White limbs of the sycamore glow in the shadows.
Flattened grass in a body-shape, as if someone too large
for a deer--I imagine: bear--lay down for the night.
Stream-sound, rain-sound and two bees at the mustard.
Tiny fig leaves unfold their intricate veinage.
Wearing a headset, a swift walker in pink misses completely
the black phoebe's chirk, which follows us along the path.
An elongated goose in flight shoots overhead like an arrow.
A weathered oak gall, empty, shows five small round holes
in one end, where the young wasps escaped.
A black lab pup, wearing a bright red harness,
pulls a slight woman too fast down the stairs.
After brief rains, flat clover leaves bear countless clear droplets.
Bending once more to bruise the California sage,
I turn back for this last look.
Heavy seed heads of grasses, in concert, sway in spring wind.
June Hopper Hymas, Spring, 2010
This is a poem I wrote about my other creek, the one near my home in the Almaden Valley. It needs a little tightening up, but I am feeling creekish tonight. I am surprised that it has almost been five years since I wrote this. If I had guessed, I would have said three; how is your creek doing??
Today I noticed that some tulips I planted in a pot three years ago are sprouting. I thought they had died. It made me happy!