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Walking With Eagles is a collection of original poems and photographs by Lindy Low Le Coq. A lifelong naturalist, amateur photographer and bird enthusiast, Lindy’s verse, composition and photographs open a window into the essence of her subjects. Her poems and photography reflect the rich natural wonders of the Pacific Northwest.
Bald Eagles mature over the course of five years. Walking With Eagles invites the reader to take a poetic and visual tour of this odyssey.
view ~ Walking With Eagles ~ in top menu bar for a preview, though the folio is much nicer!
Tag Archives: father
As I witness my father’s body diminish, his mind bend and his soul prepare to release, I feel the gravity of life transforming — the weightlessness of being –the endurance of spirit. Reflections in my pond with some shivers of … Continue reading
My father’s dementia has progressed so rapidly in the past ten days, it takes my breath away. On December 19, I stayed with him at my sister’s and we had sensible conversations as we watched the Democratic debate and ate … Continue reading
My father, now 93 and fighting to remain cogent and healthy. It’s no wonder Mom fell for him! Still a gentleman and scholar, though age is having a rough dance with him. Love him dearly.
When I was fourteen, my Dad and Mom bought a farmhouse and all the outbuildings of a once-working, family dairy farm, on forty acres just three miles south of Pullman, Washington. The work, land, people, and history remain part of … Continue reading
After he retired, my father built his dream boat; all wood, wide and deep enough for comfortable lake fishing and coastal crabbing. What a beauty she was! Odell Lake, Oregon USA
Mom gave me this Sunbeam Mixmaster, top of the line in 1969, as a wedding gift. Avacado was the color rage then, along with Tangerine and Lemon. Every time I pull it out, I think of Mom; what a good … Continue reading
Anyone who follows me at all, knows I am fortunate that my Dad is still alive and kicking (sometimes bucking everybody, every which way), and that, as a family, camping, hunting and fishing are part of our DNA. This past … Continue reading
In the mid to late 1960’s my father, mother, brother, and family friends took our horses to the high Cascade Mountains in Washington, to hunt deer. Someone in the party snapped this photograph, looking down across a valley. The horses … Continue reading
Hope forever flutters like a baby bird featherless – naked will it fly on fledgling wings or fall, a soft sack of tiny broken bones – bereft. Wish is hope suspended a floating feather drifting ever closer then sailing away … Continue reading