I ambled down to the Caloosahatchee River from Ford’s caretaker’s-cottage-turned-gift-shop and sat on a bench. Immediately, the wind coaxed a song from the giant stands of bamboo that paint a lacy pattern on the sky.
Feeling for all the world like Forest Gump waitin’ on the bus, I watched with held breath as a feather wafted down from somewhere above and gently deposited itself in the river.
Safe journey, little wafter.
An egret glided in and claimed a spot on one of the pilings of Ford’s old dock. Without his black-beaked profile, he blended with the clouds behind him.
I raised the camera and whispered, "Turn sideways, please".
He turned and I took the shot. He turned again and looked right at me. I grinned at him and whispered again. "Thanks, dude."
Give me one good reason why I should ever rise from this bench!