The Beach Is Closed

It had been at least a month since we'd had a full-on sunny day. So when the sun came out and stayed, we were beyond overjoyed. My husband wanted to take care of some errands in town and then go for a run at Bald Eagle State Park, and I was more than happy to accompany him. 

The park has a reservoir that is a favorite destination for swimming in the summer, but the beach has long been closed. I spied the fence they had installed to protect the sand on the beach and the shadows it was making against the light; and I set out for it like a shot, anxious to see it and capture it in every way that was possible.

From there, I hiked up the butterfly trail to the frog pond. On a perfect blue-sky day, the reflections were just gorgeous, like something out of a dream. I spied (and heard) a number of smaller birds, and spotted several limber salamanders, as well as one of the largest tadpoles I've ever seen in my life, just cruising around the winter pond like it owned the place.

I walked down to one of the closed roads that disappear into the reservoir, looking like something out of the apocalypse. And I startled some gulls, who tucked themselves into white "W's" and took flight across the blue waters, disappearing into blue sky above. Even Wallace Stevens would have been pleased, I thought, as the birds went winging their way across wide water without sound.

The tune to accompany this scene of the winter beach is the Steve Miller Band, with Winter Time.