I am discovering that my favorite places are those that are not in fact wild, but places where wild things successfully coexist with humans. At my current stage of life, I have no (well, okay, little) desire to go wandering in backcountry where I might at any moment end up somebody's dinner; there is such a thing as too much excitement as far as yours truly is concerned. At the same time, being in a place where the only noticeable species is ours does not please me, either; it's like seeing only your own face all the time. Yuck.
Today I decided not to go straight home from an errand but turned east instead of west on Glendale Road, curious to see where it went. I ended up on Harvard Terrace, an early 20th-century neighborhood in South Toledo filled with the kind of architecture that makes my heart sing. (For the record, I like quaint.) Of course, I had to park the car and go for a walk, discovering that Harvard Terrace ends at Walbridge Park, overlooking a bend in the Maumee River. That particular area of the river is shallow, with broad expanses of marsh interspersed with what in south Florida would be tidal flats; I've no idea what the northern freshwater equivalent is called, but it was equally beautiful, with waving grasses, small trees, and wading birds. To perfect the moment, a great blue heron flew over the marsh, then flew back again before landing across from my vantage point. Of course, the camera was at home.