Tuesday, April 14, 2026, 44.4* F, 95% RH, 0737
The first time out, singing. Not from the pond, hidden: Song Sparrow, Black-capped Chickadee, Eastern Phoebe. Raindrops, each a crystal kaleidoscope in sunlight, cling to chain links. Everything washed clean. A lone spider string swings from the wick of the torch yet to be lit. Yesterday, as Chris was closing the door I thought the cacophony was spring peepers. It was a robin in a tree, close but unseen. Ten minutes later when I opened the door, the robin still pleading. What was happening in the trees?
Waiting for the coffee to stop dripping, I stood in the laundry room watching the pond, glasses forgotten when I left the bedroom. Not looking for anything. Just admiring. The pair of black ducks swam into view. Fog like dust from a least traveled road bloomed.
When we look without expecting, things come into view.
Photo: LJ Austin
