Sunday, September 7, 2025, 57.3*, 95% RH, 0737
The sky, an expanse of silver-grey; tinge of blue perhaps an apparition above some trees. Shrinking, the stream does not move, is not green. Chris indicated lakes, ponds where they fished, hiked yesterday were low; some fish stranded in puddles as water evaporated. A beaver unamused by humans slapped his tail. Wild disturbed, I’ve seen no beaver. The crane absent for months.
The three explore their fenced in land, soft rain falling. Surprised “dirt dog” (aka Zayne) doesn’t turn to a mud pie, his coat dulled by rolling in the dirt each day. He enjoys the warmth, the earth, more than a brush. Rain a fuzzy filter looking through camera lens. Drops gather on fence rails; here, there a leaf bows to shed them.
Not waiting for abundance, morning gathers into promise.
Photo: Chris Austin
