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ferineThat day, the boys and I drove to the nearby nature preserve at Adams County Fairgrounds. It was a cool, breezy, semi-overcast afternoon, and I made sure to bundle-up (finally got to wear your hat, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snowghost, and it's a godsend in a chilly wind. Thanks again for it!).
We passed the lakes at a quick pace, then entered the preserve's prairie-dog-flanked stretch of sidewalk. After leaving the path to cross the bridge, which leads to another prairie-dog town surrounded by my canopy tree among others, we paused as Jay crossed a dead tree stretched over the ravine near the bridge.
I felt we were being watched, and I glanced to the right. Perched on a high, naked tree-limb was a hunched bird of prey. It seemed to be studying us. Perhaps, it was.
As Jay reached the other side of the ravine, the bird of prey launched from the limb and swooped directly above us! It was a huge and beautiful Swainson's hawk. We all stood quietly, staring, in awe.
After flying over us it went higher and arced before we lost sight of it.
We pressed treeward and I couldn't suppress a tremble of excitement. My beloved canopy cottonwood was resplendent with yellow-gold leaves. Cyberwolf and I entered the doorway of leaves and branch work, and I communed in silence while pressing my palm against the trunk. After I felt satiated, we decided to explore the preserve in directions we hadn't gone before.
We went across the prairie-dog colony, to the trees opposite of my canopy tree. There were lovely flowers dappled beneath the cottonwoods, some small and white, some small and purple, and some slightly bigger and bright yellow with brown centers like buttons.
The terrain grew even rougher and ripe with hills and ravines. Cyberwolf got his workout, pushing and heaving and pulling me about. >;-)
Beyond the trees lay several fields of bleached shin-deep weeds. Large patches of prickly pear cactus cropped up often, still bearing their big purple tear-drop-shaped fruit. Unfortunately, they're no longer in season. Otherwise, we would've been fruit-laden.
The ground looked like it was once a river bed (not surprising, living in a flood plain), and it made for difficult chair pulling.
Finally we entered a grassy, tree-full area. An old, rusted, burned-out car lay there. Also a small sign, coated in plastic, had flopped over on a stake. Jay flipped it right-side up and it proclaimed "Noxious Weed Test Area". Erf!
After more massive dips and hills we finally ended up near the dirt trail that leads back to the concrete path, just prior to the preserve's entrance.
snowghost, and it's a godsend in a chilly wind. Thanks again for it!).We passed the lakes at a quick pace, then entered the preserve's prairie-dog-flanked stretch of sidewalk. After leaving the path to cross the bridge, which leads to another prairie-dog town surrounded by my canopy tree among others, we paused as Jay crossed a dead tree stretched over the ravine near the bridge.
I felt we were being watched, and I glanced to the right. Perched on a high, naked tree-limb was a hunched bird of prey. It seemed to be studying us. Perhaps, it was.
As Jay reached the other side of the ravine, the bird of prey launched from the limb and swooped directly above us! It was a huge and beautiful Swainson's hawk. We all stood quietly, staring, in awe.
After flying over us it went higher and arced before we lost sight of it.
We pressed treeward and I couldn't suppress a tremble of excitement. My beloved canopy cottonwood was resplendent with yellow-gold leaves. Cyberwolf and I entered the doorway of leaves and branch work, and I communed in silence while pressing my palm against the trunk. After I felt satiated, we decided to explore the preserve in directions we hadn't gone before.
We went across the prairie-dog colony, to the trees opposite of my canopy tree. There were lovely flowers dappled beneath the cottonwoods, some small and white, some small and purple, and some slightly bigger and bright yellow with brown centers like buttons.
The terrain grew even rougher and ripe with hills and ravines. Cyberwolf got his workout, pushing and heaving and pulling me about. >;-)
Beyond the trees lay several fields of bleached shin-deep weeds. Large patches of prickly pear cactus cropped up often, still bearing their big purple tear-drop-shaped fruit. Unfortunately, they're no longer in season. Otherwise, we would've been fruit-laden.
The ground looked like it was once a river bed (not surprising, living in a flood plain), and it made for difficult chair pulling.
Finally we entered a grassy, tree-full area. An old, rusted, burned-out car lay there. Also a small sign, coated in plastic, had flopped over on a stake. Jay flipped it right-side up and it proclaimed "Noxious Weed Test Area". Erf!
After more massive dips and hills we finally ended up near the dirt trail that leads back to the concrete path, just prior to the preserve's entrance.
