"Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits."

I don't know how many time I heard my father say that.  As a teenager that quote would send me into an instant eye roll and shake of my head.

Now I have an appreciation for that sentiment.

7:15 a.m., at the park, sitting on a bench that overlooks the duck pond.  I left my camera home.  I didn't want the ever vigilant state that comes with carrying a camera.

The swimming hole scent of my childhood rolling off the water and the quiet rustle of the leaves lulled me into a quiet reverie.

Around 20 ducks bobbed on the water's surface and "spoke" back and forth with their "acking" sound.  Why, I wondered, do we attribute a "quack" to a duck?  I have never in my life heard a duck say "quack".

One duck circled near me, looked directly at me, tilted his head and as clear as a bell said "quack, quack".  This duck excels at enunciation.

I continued to just sit and let the world ebb and flow around me.  I tried to keep it that way but the mind, being what it is, kept formulating thoughts.

In a way I feel like a kid who has played hooky.  There is that absolute delight when the bus pulls away from you and you spend the next couple of hours celebrating your freedom but as time passes you start to worry and feel guilty.  By mid-day you are kicking yourself for skipping school.

Does every newly retired person feel this?

I am loving my freedom.  I can fill my time easily.  But there is a part of me that is struggling with wanting to get back on the bus.

Sunday morning, 7 a.m. and I was at the park.

This was the first morning the temperature had dipped below 60.  It was 56 and I was loving it.

There is something so comforting in putting on the first sweater of the season.

I had a plan; I was going to get an action shot of the blue heron I had been introduced to the other day.

I rounded the corner and stepped onto the boardwalk that rings one of the duck ponds.  I had been told the blue heron was there every morning.

I readied my camera, focusing it so I would be able to snap a quick photo of the far side of the pond.  I hoped to snap a photo of "Big Blue" feeding.

I walked about 50 feet in and stood, using the zoom on my camera to scan the far side of the pond.  I scanned to the left, then to the right; no heron.  I looked one more time but had to accept he was not yet there.

I capped my lens and turned the camera off and began walking quickly across the planks to reach a waterfall I particularly like.

Suddenly, an explosion of blue and grey and a sound of wings against water drew me to the edge of the walkway.  Big Blue was right under where I stood.  I fumbled with my camera trying to turn it back on and remove the lens cap as he rose above me and did a majestic half turn before he settled onto the boulders on the far side of pond.

By the time I was ready for the shot he had settled in regal manner and calmly preened his feathers.

Lack of preparation had robbed me of my opportunity.

Leaning against the railing, like the photographer of the other day, I watched and waited, willing him to take flight again.

He wasn't going anywhere so I took a couple of still shots and went on my way.

Not a single encounter with another person and for today that was just perfect!

This is my fourth day of retirement.

I started the day the same way I started the previous three; with a walk in the park.  It was early,  7:00 a.m. and the park had just opened.  The sun was skirting over the tops of the towering pines casting the most gorgeous morning shadows of deep blue and purple.  This park is decorated with hundreds of rose bushes and their sweet fragrance drifted through the air.  I knew that within a couple of hours the sun would burn the scent away; I was thankful I was there early enough to enjoy it.

In the center of the park there is a stone fountain with a joyful towering spray.  This morning there was a man standing knee deep within the fountain which was disappointingly silent. The water around his legs was filled with swirling bubbles.  He had a tool in one hand and some apparatus in the other.

"What are you doing?" I asked.  (I have lately learned that people love answering this question)

The park worker, who was, as my father would have said, "built like a brick shit house" gave me a somewhat glaring look as he continued with his task.

He finally said "I'm cleaning out the nozzles."

"Oh" I said with a smile.  "Why are your doing that?"

He looked up from his task, saw that I was smiling and giving him my most friendly look and decided to give me a quick lesson in dirt clogged nozzles, water pressure and the resulting water display.

When he finished I nodded and said, "That fountain piece you are working on looks like a trident."

As he stood there with his feet apart, "trident" in hand and swirling bubbly water around his knees I saw him give me a begrudging smile and I think I caught a twinkle in his eye.

"You see these bubbles? He asked.

"I sure do." I said with a nod.

"It is an algaecide, not a bubble bath and I don't want to catch you in here later taking a bubble bath." He gave me a grin as he went back to work.

I laughed as I walked away.

About 10 minutes later I encountered an older woman with very short white hair leaning against the wooden railway that borders the duck pond.  She had a baseball cap turned backwards perched on her head and was holding a camera with multiple lenses.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shhhhhhh" she whispered.  Then did a slow finger point gesture across the pond.

I followed her point to the multiple boulders on the other side of the pond and finally picked out a mound of blue-gray.

It was a blue heron.  I breathed out a quiet "oh" and whispered "It's like humming birds, you never expect to see them unless they are in flight."

She quietly said "I've been here over an hour waiting for him to move.  I want to take an action shot."

"Do you want me to throw a rock at it?" I asked.

Of course I was joking but she didn't know that.  She looked at me in horror until she saw my teasing smile.

She chuckled a bit and began telling me about her camera equipment and her membership in the local camera club.

What I took away from the conversation is that if she was building a camera collection now she would be focusing on Canon; but because she started with Nikon it would be too expensive to switch over.  She spoke at length about the fact that lenses and other pieces of equipment are not interchangeable among brands.

I wished her a good day and as I walked away I could hear her softly say.....

"All I want is one winning picture....just one."

This is my favorite shot from the park that day.