Lake Lytle morning

The morning has a very different feel on Lake Lytle in Rockaway, Oregon. The filtered sun pries at the clouds leaving them moody. Not like the afternoon before when the sky turned robin egg blue and the coots hung out and fished most of the day while the resident bald spied breakfast and then lunch from a perch on a telephone pole. It was the kind of day the locals recommend moseying kayaks beneath the bridge on NE 12th Avenue onto Crescent Lake, drawn in by "conk-la-ree!" trilling, and jerking and bobbing redwing blackbirds, in and out of riparian maternity wards, voicing their concerns of passers by, up to no good as far as they know. And certainly not like the afternoon that followed this grey morning when the wind howled and white caps stormed the surface, relentless marching from the south, daring the bald to find anything in the latte colored water, let alone accurately pounce.