Watching the Watchers

lily pads

This morning, another storm sweeps through Juneau. Its rain discourages trips outside. But, I have good rain gear and a dog determined to have her daily adventure so we drive out to North Douglas where a trail meanders through protecting old growth trees. At the trail head, heavy drops slam into Aki’s fleece wrap. She gives a full body shake and trots into the woods where the spruce/hemlock canopy keeps out the worst of the storm. I think the rain has stopped until the trail takes us to a beaver pond where emerging water lily fronds, still infant brown, curl toward the gray sky, accepting the rain drop battering as if it were punishment from God.


Crossing through more woods, we reach the beach where aggressive surf hammers the gravel. It releases a salt sea smell that we can only enjoy when a westerly stirs the fjord waters of Lynn Canal. Crows stand at the tide line and stare at surf like a bloke might stare at football on TV. A small raft of parti-colored harlequin ducks appears and disappears in the offshore swell. Four form a line and turn to watch the little dog just before they slip behind a wave. As is always the case, they watch us and we them.


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