Eager to See the Sandhill Cranes!
Just three days until my Nebraska adventure! Three!
And . . . and, I sold the Cherokee a couple of days ago, so I had the money to buy the telephoto lens I've been drooling over the last four years. Yeah, four years. That's how slow I tend to go when considering buying something. I constantly scrutinize if the money serves a better purpose elsewhere. Like my savings account. With the trip, though, I gave myself the gift of the lens since it will definitely allow me to get better shots of the cranes.
Recently, a friend asked me why I chose to make the crane migration a must-do. Honestly, it happened as a result of a book I read: The Echo Maker by Richard Powers. It and Powers' book The Overstory have been the best two books I've read in a very long time. Both are just absolutely beautiful. Seriously beautiful. The Echo Maker weaves together the connection between memory (rather the loss thereof) and the cranes flying the same route every year. Powers creates a rich tapestry of family, love, loss, regret, and so many more themes that are the human experience. I knew before finishing the book that I must see the cranes.
At the time I went online, as most of us do these days, to learn more about the cranes. That's when I ran across the site offering the opportunity to book a blind on the river where one can get an up-close and personal experience with the cranes. Reservations couldn't be made then. I had to wait over a month until the site opened the reservations page to the public, so I wrote the date down on a sticky note and put it on my monitor. The day the reservations page opened, I was on it. I got my spot in place, and it's a good thing I did, too. Out of curiosity, I checked the website two weeks ago. Every day was blocked out except for one or two days in April. I'm definitely not the only one eager to see the cranes.
Just the other day while Ado and I were on a walk, I heard the tell-tale warbling of the Sandhill crane. I followed the sound and saw six or seven cranes flying over. Whenever I hear them, I'm taken to a memory of Mom running outside one spring day because she heard the cranes flying over. She stood in the yard, looking up at the sky, one hand shading her eyes. There's just something about the cranes that is truly special.
And . . . and, I sold the Cherokee a couple of days ago, so I had the money to buy the telephoto lens I've been drooling over the last four years. Yeah, four years. That's how slow I tend to go when considering buying something. I constantly scrutinize if the money serves a better purpose elsewhere. Like my savings account. With the trip, though, I gave myself the gift of the lens since it will definitely allow me to get better shots of the cranes.
Recently, a friend asked me why I chose to make the crane migration a must-do. Honestly, it happened as a result of a book I read: The Echo Maker by Richard Powers. It and Powers' book The Overstory have been the best two books I've read in a very long time. Both are just absolutely beautiful. Seriously beautiful. The Echo Maker weaves together the connection between memory (rather the loss thereof) and the cranes flying the same route every year. Powers creates a rich tapestry of family, love, loss, regret, and so many more themes that are the human experience. I knew before finishing the book that I must see the cranes.
At the time I went online, as most of us do these days, to learn more about the cranes. That's when I ran across the site offering the opportunity to book a blind on the river where one can get an up-close and personal experience with the cranes. Reservations couldn't be made then. I had to wait over a month until the site opened the reservations page to the public, so I wrote the date down on a sticky note and put it on my monitor. The day the reservations page opened, I was on it. I got my spot in place, and it's a good thing I did, too. Out of curiosity, I checked the website two weeks ago. Every day was blocked out except for one or two days in April. I'm definitely not the only one eager to see the cranes.
Just the other day while Ado and I were on a walk, I heard the tell-tale warbling of the Sandhill crane. I followed the sound and saw six or seven cranes flying over. Whenever I hear them, I'm taken to a memory of Mom running outside one spring day because she heard the cranes flying over. She stood in the yard, looking up at the sky, one hand shading her eyes. There's just something about the cranes that is truly special.
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