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Manitoba Journal

by Dee Walmsley

Manitoba morning
View from the dock


Manipoga Memories: I ride my bicycle into the wind. A drizzle of rain freshens the earth and my face as a hawk circles the field playing with the currents, earthbound I struggle to maintain speed and balance. Two and a half miles later I return home to witness a parcel of pelicans floating near the lakeshore. 150 white bodies bobbing in the waves accompanied by their ever-present companions the black cormorants known locally as crow ducks. I rush in for my camera, in seconds they have moved off shore and then riding the NE winds, they disappear amongst the whitecaps.

Manitoba morning: As dawn breaks the chorus assembles. Orioles, Waxwings, Robins and Wrens serenade the rising maestro as the sun ascends from her silver bed in Lake Manitoba. Chipmunks emerge from their underground tunnels, and with their squeaks and buzzes join the birds in song. A loon's tremolo ripples across the mirrored lake. Feather and furred hone their instruments before the symphony begin. The sky's misty blue marries the pink clouds waiting for the golden rays to spark the new day. The sun commands the morning, its warmth bids farewell to the night's chill as darkness is replaced by the early light. The songbird's serenade reaches a crescendo then fades, their homage paid they go about their daily rituals. It's morning in Manitoba.

Wet Manitoba morning: The air is all a twitter as the early birds waken no song greets the gray day the choir remains faithful to its maestro. The silver looking glass is replaced by an undulating mass. The wind whips through the larch as the rain pelts upon my window. Like the birds I take cover and hide beneath my pillow perhaps tomorrow will be a brighter day.

Manipogo by Night: The moon rests behind a cloud. The cabins darken as one by one the cottagers take to their beds. As the last light fades the ballet begins. The air is filled with tinkerbell-like fairies lighting magic wands as tiny ballerinas spread their wings and dance into the night. Bright twinkling stars twirl and spin, now you see them, now you don't, they seem to say, catch me if you can. Little leprechauns caught playing on the breeze in their faerie. What makes you light the sky, oh little fire fly?

Dee Walmsley is Clever Magazine's Nature Columnist. 
To view her articles, click here!



Dee Walmsley is Clever's nature writer. She would love to hear from you.

To contact Dee: deew74@shaw.ca
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