Blue Day

There's something here - Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

I can't put my finger on what draws me to nature spaces, but I know I must be "here". Often. Daily if I can. Trusting myself to follow the nudge to get out the door.

Maybe the word that draws me is potential? As in the potential of catching something that is new to me - a mushroom that popped up, a mallard duck with 9 growing ducklings in tow, a flower that stands alone in a prairie landscape, putting a punctuation mark on its place.

Every day holds the potential to experience something new and making forward progress to change and grow. Change is not my favorite thing -- often I am not comfortable with change and have to remind myself that I wouldn't be where I am now without change. The recent addition of a granddaughter caused me to reflect on all the change that she experiences as and will experience before she even learns to crawl. And how change is a good thing, comfortable or not. It was pointed out to me recently that any forward progress is good. I want to live that more, remembering how it always feels to learn something new - I feel alive when I am learning!

One change from recent drought years are the generous rains that occurred with a degree of regularity this summer, causing the forests and prairies to explode with dense foliage. The prairie plants seem to compete with who can catch the most sun, stretching upwards together. Many are chest high or more. Yes, the birds and other wildlife are here, but they have more room to remain just out of my view. But yet, there's the potential they just might step out in the open while I'm here. It makes it more exciting to hear them, and see if I can find them, either with my eyes or with help from my camera lens.

I remain vigilant as I walk, stepping on damp leaves, avoiding the crunch of grave on the worn path that might startle wildlife. My dog, George is a silent walker, too; his fur paws always move quietly on any surface as if he is wearing slippers. He's learned to be quiet, attentive and patient with me and my frequent stops to look closer at something. We walk together, connected by a leash and my recent improvement: a carabiner attached to the leash that I snap to my belt loop. It's a simple thing that I should have thought of a long time ago, No fumbling with the leash when I see something and George stays safe as well.

We are the visitors here, and I deeply respect the "residents" who are busy raising their families, plants growing up from the ground, larvae maturing into their adult stage, mushrooms popping up (literally overnight), to name a few of the homies. Through it all, there is the potential for me to see something, if my dog and I are quiet, patient and careful where we step.

Walking along, I became a little distracted, wishing to see a scarlet tanager (and not taking my own advice to be ready for ANYTHING that catches my eye. (sigh)) There have been a few of these brilliant birds here, so I keep looking for brilliant red patches in the foliage.

But - at the edge of my field of view, I catch movement, a patch of blue. I stop gently and slowly raise my camera up to my eye. My dog is quiet and still. Good. It's a bit dark where I am looking, but there it is again, hopping along a branch that is horizontal to the ground, reaching a fork, and peeking out at me.

Indigo Bunting. Small beauty of a bird. I adjust my exposure to draw out the deep blue from the dark green foliage that kept him out of the spotlight. I snapped a few photos, taking advantage of how comfortable he was on his perch, safe far above me.

Nature never disappoints. I'm taking my own counsel: There is always something to see that you haven't seen before. I'll be back for more.

Lift-Off

Fully committed to moving on, this Common Yellowthroat is taking off! Light on his feet and fully outstretched, he's leaving nothing on the table.

Common Yellowthroat - Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

I love the photo of this songbird fully outstretched. I had no idea his legs were that long. If he was bigger, maybe he'd be a wading bird?

Speaking of letting go, I feel ready to let go of a habit of mine: needing to fill the air with chatter, when silence or a single word will do. I'm not very comfortable with what seems like unending silence stretching out in space in a conversation. Even when it looks like I am quiet, my mind is usually carrying on with a whole bunch of things, pushing me to fill the space with extraneous words that just don't need to be said. Kind of annoying. I'm now much more aware that I do it, which is progress.

I know that it's common to have a busy mind and not so common to be still. To me, a pause in a conversation feels like an eternity, especially when I think I need to respond right NOW. Closely related, is how I interrupt, jumping ahead and assuming where the conversation is going. I don't do it all the time, but enough that it makes me uncomfortable to admit it to myself.

It really isn't hard to stop speaking needlessly, but it certainly is a habit that I fully embraced for a long time, fearing I better have an answer immediately, or else (as if it would appear that I wasn't paying attention to the conversation I was having with someone)!

It just takes practice.

There's freedom to be gained in just letting conversations naturally flow. I recently read that words are like spells and should be used wisely, further incentive to use words carefully!

I like that I can leave behind those extra words that don't need to be said, like that bird is leaving behind whatever is on the branch. I can take a breath and pause, land listen. I'll take those extra few moments to think about what I want to say, and most importantly whether anything really needs to be said.

I'm just going for it, like the warbler in the photo.

Decisions, decisions!

Seeing Double - Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

The Sandhill Cranes are scanning their environment and staying close together. They sense that someone is watching, even though I slowly stopped and turned off the car and carefully opened the window. I extended the lens of my camera only slightly beyond the edge of the door, careful to move slowly. The pair paced along just beneath the crest of a hill, the grass an amazing shade of green.

These Sandhill Cranes made this patch of prairie their home this spring and summer. There are plenty of hills to hide behind and space to be alone.

New Life after the Burn - Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

Looking at the prairie now, it's hard to believe the prairie was burned to the ground just a few short months ago. It was a prescribed burn and is a good thing; it rejuvenates the land by clearing away straw and other dried materials from last fall that make it challenging for the plants. Prairie plants have very deep roots, well protected from fire. To look at the prairie now, the grasses and greenery are well over knee high.

I had trouble focusing my lens on their golden eyes, necessary for the best photo. Each photo I took was out of focus. Ugh.

Something was off. I tried focusing a little less tightly to their eyes, instead, focusing more on the grass in front of them. Got it! Suddenly the details of the cranes popped right out of the background. Perfect.

I'm still learning about this camera, and I'm not exactly sure how that worked. It helped that I kept experimenting while they hung out, not moving too far away. Perhaps they had their young (colts) nearby? I had seen them together a month ago.

Sandhill Crane and Colts - Copyright 2025 JeanMaher.com

I had a passing thought - the photo reminded me of watching a puppet show and hearing "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" song in my head. You know, you often don't see the entire puppet from head to toe.

They weren't alarmed by me, but looked left and right, swiveling their head with those beautiful golden eyes, back and forth, back and forth, before moving slowly along just below the grassy ridge line.

When I looked at this photo later, to brought something else to mind - how I make (or don't make) a decision. I find there are always options from which to choose. What if I choose wrong? I hate packing for a trip because of the options. I delay doing so until the very last minute, usually sacrificing some sleep in the process. And there's the weather to consider, what I'll be doing, how long I'll be gone. Whew. Or, closer to home, do I have coffee or tea in the morning? When going out for a hike, do I go to a familiar area or a new place? Does anyone else have any advice for me? Overthinking? Me? Yes - quite tiring, actually!

I'm learning to ask myself, does anyone really care what I decide? Of course not. Not really. They are not me. The more I make decisions for myself - that are right for me - I gain a little more confidence. I also remind myself that it is all practice. All of what I do. Treated that way, it takes the pressure off. Especially if I find out later, I might have made a better choice. What's that saying from Thomas Edison? "I've not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that it won't work." I'm no Thomas Edison, but there is always another opportunity for me to practice making decisions. Keep moving forward and see that when I'm in the flow, decisions DO come easier. :)