New England is not rich in flat land, but it’s flat in a few places around here. On the gentle southward slope of the Island’s outwash plain, there’s flatness to be found. The morainal hills transition from forest to field, then to marshes and ponds, to dunes and end at the beach, where begins another flatness, the sea, where swells corrugate the Atlantic.
The last weeks have been sodden. The great ponds are filling fast. The marshes are flooding. The earth is full of water. Ruts in the old dirt roads are like canals
In the lowest spots, the road is a pondlet for doglet to wade.
After passing the foot of a pond we head inland.
Shrubs and junipers are leading the charge to return this land to the forest it once was.
Once sheep and critters held back the overgrowth. Agriculture and hay fields persist down here, but are fewer than were formerly. These days what mostly does battle against invading forest is machinery. The cutlines of tractor and bush hog leave linear cut-tracks on the ground.
Canada geese graze in the distance. They notice us but we don’t approach too near. Some honk an alert, but they do not fly.
Today’s fog makes distance vanish in mist.
We thread fence lines and pass from field to field.
Shapes of cedars punctuate the landscape.
Cedar shapes are variable, so variable at times that their resemblance to each other is more like “cousin” than “brother and sister”.
As I photographed one of the groups of of three trees —
Motion caught my eye. I moved around to look, thinking what I’d seen was one of those beautiful harrier hawks. I looked carefully. The bird had vanished.
The three trees were nice. There were pictures. It was time to head home.
When I got home and reviewed the photos there was a surprise.
In one of the exposures was the bird.
Blowing up the image revealed it to be a great blue heron in flight.
Thanks camera, for saving what I did not at first see.