This is a shot of the silo in back of my parents' barn. That's the creek in the background, and that's a whole lot of dead grass in the foreground. Now that we've discussed all that, let's move on to the next topic, which is herons, which of course has nothing to do with silos. ADD anyone?
Here's the state of the union in Mathews County as far as Chesapeake Bay Woman can tell:
1. It rained again yesterday. Rain. Again.
2. It's still cold. Cold. Still.
3. For the first time ever in the history of my eyeballs I saw four herons at once, together.
4. That's almost like saying I saw four clowns, all at once, frolicking in my back yard. Sure, it could happen, but is it likely?
Herons, you see, tend to be lone rangers. They are introverted, solitary creatures who just want to stand in some shallow water and fish all day long. They don't socialize, they don't flock together, they don't have BFF's, they don't go to parties, they're loners.
Well, imagine my surprise when yesterday after work I opened the back door to let a cat out and from the pine tree springs not just one, not even two, no not three but four herons. They all took off at the same time and flew off in the same direction.
I wish I knew where they went, because the time when I can photograph four herons together will be the time I can quit the paying job for good.
Disclaimer: If anyone from my paying job ever reads this, I have no intentions of quitting, and let me take this opportunity to thank you for being such a