As I look out, the landscape is dominated by the wetlands. When building this facility, the company was required to make new wetlands for any displaced by construction. If I remember correctly, we actually added acreage of wetlands.
To my right, a big, old, gnarled oak squats on the edge of the wetlands like a jealous king overlooking land he'll never be able to invade. From this distance, the rounded edges of the leafy branches reaching to the ground make him look like a piece of coral jutting from the ocean floor.
Sweeping left, the foreground is filled with tall reeds that might be cat-tails, their seed pods long since gone. They rustle and wave in the breeze, building an ocean theme. Behind the reeds, the open water spreads. Parts of its surface covered by algae, it hosts a variety of waterfowl. Ducks sit low in the water, dipping their heads to probe for tasty morsels on the bottom. Geese glide vainly, their necks reaching upward to overshadow their smaller cousins. Most graceful among the birds, however, are the herons. Standing tall and white, they are what the geese wish they could be. Their beauty unassuming, their strut unaffected, they survey the scene and all it offers them.
In the distance, a flush of purple rolls over the vegetation. I think of heather, but doubt these are that.
I look forward to seeing the change of seasons out my window.