Lush and Green Along Spring Creek

You could say it was all for the love of a heron. A heron who escaped me, in the end, though I chased it up and down Spring Creek on a foggy summer morning. In search of misty magic, I drove by the big bend where the creek widens and the frost mist rises in winter time.

The heron was huge, maybe the granddaddy of them all. It was standing in the middle of the creek near a downed tree. I drove past at first - parking is so limited there - and then I turned the car around and came back. Parked in a tiny slip along the road. Walked back down along the creek.

In the end, I never got close enough for even a single photo of the heron before it lifted up and flew away ahead of me, down the creek. I followed, of course, as I am wont to do, as I HAVE to do.

The bird did a mind-scramble on me: instead of settling back down in the creek - surprise! - it had perched in a tall tree well above my head. Fwoop-fwoop-fwoop! I heard, and even felt, its powerful wings beat the air as it lifted up a second time and flew away.

I did not waste the opportunity: I took some photos of the area along the creek where the heron had been. You may see one of those photos in the extras, along with the big downed tree in the middle, where the heron had been. And then I walked back to my car and took off in hot pursuit.

I drove along the creek, watching for the heron. And then I parked near the rusty bridge above the spillway and looked around. No heron to be found, alas, but I did get some photos, including the one above that includes the bridge itself. (In photos posted here, I more often show you the bridge from the other side.)

Of course, when I am walking along the creek where I stood to take the photo above, I am always searching for the Spring Creek Madonna, whom I met here in winter, and visited often, and lost. And who was replaced, and lost again. She was not here physically on this day, though I carry her in my heart. I have a feeling, friends, that this is a story that is not over yet.

And so it was, for the love of a heron, that I wandered among the beautiful, lush, green foliage of central Pennsylvania; and along its cool, clear waters in search of magic. I missed you this time, heron. But I will hope to catch some photos of you one of these times. In the meantime, I will visit you in my sweet summer dreams.

The soundtrack: REO Speedwagon, In My Dreams.