To the post office and back

I took my camera to run my post office errand.

It's a grey and dull day, but the river is rising and I wanted some pictures.

Well spotted, Joanne.

The heron was tall and thin and looking a lot like the reeds.

Then he moved.

I made a U turn at the end of the road.

The heron was still in the water.

I pulled off quickly, turned on the flashers

and began snapping away.

I heard a car behind and checked the mirror.

Not just anyone.

Oh, no. It's the chief.

The heron left.

"Good job, you nailed the Boston clerk."

"Not, bad. I may report it at tonight's meeting."

I pulled into the Brown Rabbit.

The river obligingly flows below.

The upstream view was dull enough,

the downstream view too dull to use.

I met my first Corgi.

She came half way across the green way,

And ignored me for the rest of my visit. 

 My friend Peggy Jo, one of the Brown Rabbit's principals,

taking in a consignment of plows.

Some spent flowers on the bank.

I'll guess May apple, but don't count on that being right.

After a visit with Peggy Jo

I went downstream to take more pictures.

This is a perfect example of why the First Nations called it the crooked river.

It bends like a snake, making peninsulas of land.

I don't know the history of the piers above, except there were several sandstone quarries in the area and the stone went to market on trains.

I also don't know when the retaining work was done to the river edge,

but again during the heyday of the quarries from the mid 19th to early 20th century.

A block of sandstone on the shore.

I passed this bunch of park guys, walking with clipboards, looking at the river and the trails.

Greeted by Mr. What Did You Bring Me?

And noticed my sister has transplanted my birthday present, complete with the "fork you" deterrent.

That's all! Linda and I are off to Boiling Springs tomorrow, on the great thread quest.

Janice will take a picture of Laura in her twirly dancing dress Friday.

Looking for spring and another story

The park calls this "Brier Rose Farm,"

another euphemism for property they did not need to purchase,

have no use for

and have no money to maintain. 

However, the postman is quite happy it is a trail head with facility.

Looking out over the hills.

Today was beautiful, but cold.

Tree trunks.

I like them.

Kendall Lake, in the park.

Several years ago it had to be drained.

It became too silted in and shallow for the volume of water it handles,

And would be dredged.

When it was empty, Oh, the stench!

It was properly cordoned off, warning signs posted. 

The drive to the parking area is locked every night.

In short, if you could read and think, all would be well.

Two young women were visiting. 

One said "Oh, I lost my ring in this lake years ago,"

and went out to look for it.

Into the stinking muck.

It held her fast.

It rose to her armpits before the level stabilized.

Her friend called for help, 

and our EMT's showed up.

They laid all the plywood available at the local lumber yard on the mud's surface,

and crawled out to her as if it were an ice rescue.

She was so stuck they could not lift her.

In the end they secured a harness under her armpits, which were below the surface,

as were her arms.

They used a crane, on hand from the dredging operation,

to begin lifting her.

The entire rescue took about eight hours.

Paid for entirely, as I've mentioned from time to time,

by the fewer than seven hundred citizens of the township, 

many of whom are children.

Allowances are not taxable.

My impressionist egret

I took my camera with me to a meeting this morning because I heard a white crane was in the marsh under the overpass. They stopped traffic last year, and seemed to have just arrived this year. The bird was on the other side; I would have to get my picture on the way back.

Which I did. Five lovely snaps that looked very good in the viewfinder. After work, after lunch, I downloaded them and found these. Impressionistic. I wonder if the wrap around sunglasses affected my focusing. I took the camera and went back for another try, but it was gone. I hope it will be back for breakfast tomorrow, and not just passing through. I'll have my camera!

On the way to take another picture of the white heron a squirrel ran across our grass and down the wall. I followed him all the way and snapped at the last instant. 

Since I was out and had a camera I detoured to take a memorable picture of the storm of the century a week ago. It actually is the second storm of the century; the last one was in 2003.

There was so much damage from this storm it's past recounting. It surpassed the last storm of the century. The railroad tracks belong to the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railway; I don't know when they will be repaired. The asphalt lane in the front of the picture below is the Towpath Trail through the park. It's being repaired, mile by slow mile.