About a year ago, I saw a kingfisher at the North Pond for the first and only time. I managed to get a photograph, though rather a silly one as bird photographs go. The bird is very small and unrealistic looking, the limitless sky somehow making it look more dinky than it really was.
The tiny image is still powerful and real, a souvenir of the moment when the bird perched on the branch, and the day was radiant with the colors of autumn.
My older sister came to visit over the weekend. She was here for just 48 hours. It was likewise a memory in the making. Before I knew it, she was gone.