A few days ago we went to a little reservoir near here for a walk. Fortunately I had my fanny pack on with a little sketchbook and paint.
Winter gray sky. Winter gray water. No breeze. Quiet on this small reservoir, Plat I (‘I’ is pronounced ‘eye’). A gathering of slow swimming cormorants ease across the quiet water, cutting silver streaks. They remind me of a group of sophisticated snobs promenading along a river walkway. Their noses are in the air; their gait unhurried; all flowing in one direction. One has been fishing and now holds his wings aloft for a couple of minutes as he swims with the rest. A great blue heron strokes by, heading in the opposite direction.