Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.

Thoreau, Henry David Thoreau, Thoreau quotes about time

Henry David Thoreau

Hey Henry, Happy Belated Birthday.

July marked the two hundredth birthday for Thoreau; July 12, to be exact. And since he loved meandering along the Concord River, I thought I’d start this post with a nod his way. Plus, the quote leads me right into my topic–the passage of time.

I would love the ability to freeze time. How wondrous it would feel to capture a moment and keep it close. But, alas, we are but fishermen in the river of time, and the river flows and flows–and flows. New time comes along as present time moves away. And, sadly, one day, the river will stop flowing. (Okay, I’m depressed, how about you? Well, allow me to depress you further.)

At the beginning of July, I put my dear, sweet little girl to sleep.

Penny girl!

Her kidneys were in 80% failure. I didn’t want her to suffer, as Sparky had. Sooo, I made the decision to give her a peaceful passing before things got ugly. I’m sure she’s following her brother around in some green field. I hope so.

I miss you two.

(Go ahead, admit it, now you’re depressed, right? Okay, time for some happy news.)

Not a whole lot of ducklings this season. One motherless group showed up at the beach. None of the adults wanted anything to do with them. After the first day, they never returned. Most likely a snapping turtle had lunch or maybe a water snake. (Damn, I thought I was going to write about something happy. Sorry.)

Orphans on the river.

(Fine. Now I’ll write about happy times.)

Around the middle of the month, a hen arrived with her teenagers. She’s been coming around every day since then. I’ve even gotten her to the point where she’ll eat out of my hand. Of all the hens that have brought their kids for a visit, she’s the sweetest.

A doe and her fawn have been spending some time across the river. I’ll be sitting at my desk and when I glance up, there they’ll be. The young’n is one curious little deer. One day he/she became enamored with the heron and followed it along the shore. Things got a little tense then the fawn got too close. Soon, though, they were buddies. (A happy story.)

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Time for a little perspective. This is what the hummingbird garden looked like in January.

This is the hummingbird garden now.

This is fun. Let’s do it again. Here’s a duck in January.

Here’s a duck now.

Then…

Now.

The hummingbird garden has been the happening place on the river. (Give the slideshow some time to load. Don’t give up!)

 

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Last thought before I go. The month of July flew by and I’m sure August will too. Before summer bids the river farewell I’d like to toast her beauty…

her wonder…

her glorious displays…

and her hope.

May your summer be all you want it to be.

Blessed be. :}

About tinthia

Wondering, searching, and wandering, I'm a single mother with a desire to get it right in my lifetime. The flow of the river feeds my inner goddess and fuels my soul. Blessed be. :}
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One Response to Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.

  1. Dyan Dorman says:

    Wonderful!

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