Wednesday, April 23, 2025, 40* Fog
Where dogs don’t run, where I seldom am brave enough to walk, grass between the fence and boulders transitions brown to green. Playing his flute, a Brown Thrasher sits on the fence, an echo is heard from the woods. A pair of Phoebes flit about, prefer to sit on the solar light considering the flat top as a nesting site.
It’s not the angle of morning light, it’s not bubbles from the feeding stream, it’s not snow nor ice though it looks like snow: something happened in the pond last night. I don’t know if the peepers sang all night or if they were disturbed by the happening. Inside the house, I couldn’t hear a thing. Perhaps tomorrow morning the pond will appear as it has for all the mornings I’ve been here. Perhaps I will have to live with this new design.
Leave all your worries with Him,
because He cares for you.
1 Peter 5:7 GNT
Photo: LJ Austin
