DeAnn Louise Daigle AWW 2/10/10
It was a year ago this past January that you and I went to the little pond not far from Wayside, where you lived, and where you had worked for the good part of thirty years. You recounted to me how as a young child you came out here and sledded down the hill with your friends and how this little pond would freeze up and you’d go ice-skating.
Well, here we were in the van when a flock of ducks flew in from, it seemed, nowhere and landed on the icy pond, and with their webbed feet attempted to walk on the ice. There must have been about twenty or thirty of them.
A smaller group broke out from the larger flock; they were determined to walk along the pond’s edge. The others remained still – watching. These daring ten or so flip-flopped on the ice sliding along, stopping as if to size up the situation and then begin again.
Undaunted, they walked on the ice and their bodies cast a shadow that was simply too much for a photographer like you not to notice. You walked to the pond with your camera and shot away. I, cold, on that frosty morning drive, remained inside the van and watched you watching them.
I have one of the black and whites here now. I’m looking at it, Fran, and I’m remembering how we delighted in that moment.