Rice Lake, in the Lower Seymour Conservancy area. Another easily accessible park here. The sun came out, and the air had warmth. Its hard to see where the trees end and the reflection of the trees in the water begins. Part way through this morning’s walk, down by the Seymour River, a memory emerged of having been here – over twenty years ago, and not since. We swam in the pools down the trail. The things we think we forget.
Sunshine and I went to Brackendale on Saturday for the end of the Eagle Festival – this is the site of the annual eagle count. The count is down this year apparently. We saw nine, which was OK for a grey and rainy day.
And knitting – a riff on a Kiri shawl. I changed the edging because for whatever reason, attempting it as written kept the yarn turning on me. (Not a problem with the pattern, its fine, I think I had hit lace saturation, and a ruffle was the best alternative to yet more leaves.) Pretty, soft, no recipient yet.
(Sorry about the flipped photo, I seem to be unable to wrestle the editing into submission.)