Osprey Honor Guard

Pastures Mature

Shady Tree

Ring-necked Ducks Flirting

A Little Apple?

Cherries!

Pastures mature; green deepens like a husky voice. The verdure of spring has faded like old WWII Army fatigues.The northern Rockies look drier now that the white of snow has melted to reveal brown and gray stones. Tamracks that grow among the evergreen pines flourished brightly with new needles bright as first-month aspen leaves, have now faded to olive green. As the pond retreats into reeds, the surrounding meadow takes on hues of blond and brunette.

Even though it is early morning I make this observation under the shade of an apple tree (maybe). I see no fruit in the canopy of leaves, so I am guessing that this is even a fruit tree. It's already hot and I plop down upon the grass in the shade of this tree to watch. I don't even bother with coffee; ice water already sounds appealing. Two ring-necked duck males paddle after a female. Another hot day and not much happening.

Still gawking as I rise from my shady spot, I see little apples. Not in the apple tree, but the skinny, poplar-like tree next to the wood shed. I zoom in with my camera and see glossy-red. Cherries? With reverence, I walk to the tree, looking up. It is a cherry tree! Hopping, I swing at a branch, missing. So I carefully bend a branch to me and pluck a ripe cherry. Gold, I am eating gold. Never in my life have I had a cherry fresh from a tree. I thought fresh strawberries were the hallmark of summer, but that was before cherries.

As if that first bite infused magic into the air, I hear an osprey. In the heat, the sky in no longer bright blue, but the osprey still soars like a wing-master. There are huge power lines that cut across the back of the pond and he lands on the middle post. Capturing him in the telephoto lens, I notice that sparse slope behind. I had thought it to be logged, but at closer look, the hill and trees have burned. Wildfires are the tornadoes of the west, the wind-driven hurricanes of forests.

Osprey Arrive

A moment of silence to mourn the passing of 19 firefighters from Prescott, AZ. It could have been my father, your brother, my neighbor's husband. They were all such to women who keen the loss. We mourn with those who mourn.

Osprey with Fire-scarred Slope Behind

They were defending the west, whether human homes or natural habitat. I imagine them as saving my home, saving the trees the osprey fly among this morning. Three osprey show up and show off. If there is an honor guard to escort us to heaven,
let's hope it is osprey. The tones are dusky, but watch the photos for flashes of white and brown. Presenting, the osprey honor guard. May they bring us home one day.