Just got back from the other side of the country where we dropped off Youngest. For the next four years, she'll be studying fine arts and I'll be pining for the fjords (name that source). Now, I've done this twice before with my other children, and Youngest spent a good chunk of the summer away from home on her own in Europe, so I didn't think it would hit me as hard as it did. As it turns out, a brick upside the head would have had less impact. (le sigh) Still, she's thrilled with her new life, so I couldn't be happier. Okay I could be happier, if say, she lived closer, or I won the lotto, or if there was a chocolate factory in my basement.
We stayed at a delightful inn in the small town that houses her university. They had a wild mushroom soup and a seafood chowder that still make me shiver when I think of them, they were that good. And while my husband recovered from his 10 hour drive, I walked around town and stumbled upon this waterfowl park. I wandered over at dusk the night before I left (my baby forever) and though I only saw a fraction of the 50+ acres (through a veil of tears) (kidding) (not) I was struck by its beauty and serenity. The path started beside this old Presbyterian church.
Then I meandered along this walkway over the water, lined by an arch of river birch, undulating over the marsh and through the reeds. I know for sure that path undulated because I kept lurching and tripping over its undulations.
Here is the bench where I had a good cry. Not really. I actually met a fellow Nikon enthusiast, and bound by our love of The Nikon and my fear of a bunch of rowdy local drunks throwing beer cans into the pond, we went forth together into the marsh to find ducks to shoot. With our Nikons.
The park was full of walkways like these, with twists and turns that disappeared for miles into the brush.
He was a bit saucy. Saucy like l'orange, I'd like to remind him.
Oh, I'm going to miss my girl.