Saturday, June 7, 2025, 61.7* 0701 Fog
Thunder came to bed with us and lightning which I may or may not have seen. Rain, but not very much came too. Not enough rain for the stream to waken the pond. Enough rain though to weight the air, enough rain to set in motion the accordion of my breathing.
Led by a Red-eyed Vireo, a quartet this morning heard once I concealed the ringing with hearing aids. Has heavy air muted the singing? Has the wizard of spring with her fog magicked the birds to other places?
Fog: an illusion of memory
to keep us from seeing.
ICM Photo: LJ Austin
