Thursday, May 8, 2025, 50.5* Fog
I was almost dressed, just lacing my boots when Ruger talked across the floor wiggling, nails click-clacking toward my room. He walks backwards when he leaves a room as if that may keep him from sliding on bare floors; perhaps it is how he controls the stress of what may happen should he lose his footing. He does well in reverse without turning to look, maybe he doesn’t want to see. Chris backs his truck down my driveway as sometimes do FEDEX and UPS; a puzzle to me-–someone’s tires too close to the edge on the curve almost into the woods.
None of nature’s brew had to be dumped from surfaces but I’ll need to dry my chair if I want to feed the mosquitoes. Seven birds converse while I wait for the three, Zsolt stretching, yawning. New to the conversation, the Northern Parula, Black and White Warbler and Yellow-Rumped Warbler. Sometimes I hear a robin further away not this morning but the rooster somewhere down the road made his presence known.
Yesterday, I had a clear view of a Broad-Winged Hawk perched in a driveway oak. Was he planning his next move or just listening? The conversation of birds continued when the hawk finally spoke. As I focused the camera, he flew. Late afternoon an Osprey and Oven Bird were heard.
The silence of winter has been shattered by the singing of spring.
The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.
Psalm 104:12 NIV
Photo: LJ Austin
