Up, Periscope

   λ is marked on the path. I find sometimes the fine gravel screenings form a backdrop or ground for figures. Sometimes they operate like a mysterious public Etch a Sketch. Here one day; gone the rest.

   Why this? Why this thing that looks like lambda from one direction and a y from the other? The tip of the lambda symbol looks like a heron’s head or an Egyptian bird hieroglyph.

   Coming across the wooden footbridge, over the mill race, one can see a heron wading in the water, partly shrouded by a scarf of rising mist. I remind myself to do a steam facial.

   Moving along the path, parallel to the mill-race, casting sideways glances, the heron virtually disappears, its head  sticks out above the plane of the meadow due to the ha-ha effect of the mill-race, in which it stands, where the watercress grows in a spring-fed sunken living room. The heron’s head is camouflaged against the tufty meadow grass. It is nearly indistinguishable from the white licks of frost and flecks of shadow that are like tiny morning caverns in nature’s green carpeting.

   Although I think about ostriches putting their heads in the sand to blot out the enemy – this is the opposite. The heron is ultra-aware. It leads with its head, blending with the environment and tailoring its moves to the prevailing style of the day. Yet, little lambdas, the heron is completely itself. Up, Periscope!


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