I got to spend the weekend camping at Port Burwell Provincial Park.
It was ostensibly a birding weekend, but I don’t have lenses for wildlife photography. I did check out the birds, but my photos were much closer to the ground.
Here’s a Jack sitting in his pulpit. This forest was filled with them.
There were budding berries everywhere. And at dawn, the strawberries were holding a tiny bead of water on each serration of its leaves.
We’re definitely coming close to local strawberry season. I can’t wait to bite into my first one of the year.
Of course, there was the odd dandelion. Handsome flowers they are, even if they’re weeds.
Moss and lichen were flourishing from the recent rains.
And this tiny Downy Yellow Violet seemed quite happy to spring up out of the detritus on the forest floor.
I had forgotten that the Sunday was mothers’ day.
One of the last things I talked about with my mother before she died was how much she loved to float on her back in the summers we spent at Lake Erie.
So now, it seems, whenever I’m near Lake Erie, I feel like I can wave and say ‘hello.’
So when I realized that I was near the lake, I had to go down to do just that.
I miss you.
I hope you’re enjoying the view.