Date of Discovery

By: Sharon K. Shubert

I dug my bare feet way down in the warm sand, wiggling my toes as I stared out across the glassy lake. What a beautiful, sunny day, I thought to myself. I watched a sailboat slowly, silently glide by in the distance. Ken, sitting on a blanket beside me, lightly strummed his guitar; a classical tune, light and fitting for the day. He hummed to himself, making me smile at this sweet, gentle man who'd came into my life.

The sky was the bluest I'd ever seen here! Cotton candy clouds in huge rolls and puffs were scattered here and there, dotting the otherwise unmarked sky with fluff. I lay on my back, feeling like a kid, trying to pick out a form or face in the clouds, reminding me of cloud games we played in days gone by.

Feeling the warm sand under the blanket, I lazily watched Mother Nature's bounty, far away from the stresses of my life just a short walk away from here.......

A large, white, noisy, flapping heron called a greeting to us, (or perhaps a territorial warning that we had invaded his space). He came to a swift perfect landing on top of a halfway submerged gray boat ramp post. It jutted out of the water a few hundred yards away at the edge of the shoreline.

Perched perfectly, he stood there as still as a statue, his head tucked down toward his chest, his long beak pointed to the water beneath him, his wings flat by his side. Was he ignoring us or simply standing guard over the evening meal he hoped to catch?

We watched for awhile, speaking in hushed tones, in awe of what we were witnessing. He didn't move except for an occasional, quick eye-roll that could easily be missed. Suddenly he dove into the water, quick as a missile, deep down into the depths, came back up and into the air just as quickly!! A flapping, flashing colorful fish was tightly wedged in his long beak!

The fish fought hard for his life, wriggling with all his might as the heron kept his tight grip. Flapping his strong powerful wings, the mighty bird rose further up, up into the sky and flew over the water and into the nearby woods to devour his tasty fishy dinner.

Suddenly hungry, we quickly unpacked the heavy wicker picnic basket, laden down with our own tasty meal. We arranged our fare onto a huge, gray, somewhat level rock that served as our table in nature's dining room.

An owl hooted his usually nocturnal greeting somewhere behind us in the thick grove of trees, giving me a startle as hoots from hoot owls often do. There's just something almost spooky about that call.

I liberally spooned mounds of mustard potato salad onto our plates. Unwrapping thick, hearty sandwiches of potato bread and roast beef, we watched a roadrunner somewhat nervously appear from the bushes nearby. I almost laughed out loud at the surprise of his arrival, but quickly stifled my laughter, not wanting to scare him away.

His long tail almost dragged the ground as he took tiny, quick steps to the shoreline, darting about, eyeing us warily, scampering on by on his search for lakeside insects. Eating on the run, he quickly disappeared around the cove, as swiftly as he had arrived. The only evidence of his visit was a trail of tiny prints left behind in the wet sand. Should we follow and see where they lead?

We opted instead to savor our meal, sitting side by side on our blanket, spectators in the dining room of nature. Here, somehow the flavors were more flavorful, our appetites more voracious, the atmosphere most uplifting, our emotions running high.

We spoke without having to say much in words. Our hearts were full. We walked down the beach holding hands, stopping ever so often to embrace one other, kiss and feel what we had found in each other, and in this place........

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