Sometimes you think life can’t get any better – and then it does.
I came home from this morning’s outing to find a snowy egret outside my kitchen window. He stayed there as I made orange juice and omelets, ate them, tidied up, and took the time to write this.
My land has a swale, and with the winter rains, a silver ribbon of water traverses the lot and large puddles form nearby. The egret basks in the puddle nearest to me, his feet black from the mud, his pristine feathers rippling. His graceful form is brilliant; the crook in his neck and the curve in his back are highlighted by the morning waves of sunlight as it pierces through drifting clouds overhead. The wind is so strong that his wings expand out beside him, and I think he might have to take flight just to stay still.
He picks his way along the puddles, then tiptoes down the ribbon till he finds himself at the end and turns around. He opens his wings and slowly glides back to the large puddle to start the cycle again. The horses pay him no attention, their coats of roan and sable provide magnificent contrast to his glistening silhouette.
The swale had made other potential builders balk at buying this land, as Marin County had designated it as wetland area. I was not dissuaded, and now the fruits of that decision are before me. And I think again, how can I be so lucky?
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