... those are the good days
The sky is gray today and tiny raindrops fall on my note pad as I try to
prevent the ink from smearing. I sat in the lounge chair reading when I heard
The female is sitting on the small island in the middle of the lake. The male
swims around, sometimes unseen as he disappears below the surface, but
ever watchful of the female and their precious eggs. The island is smaller
than it was last year so it is hard for both birds to fit together on the mound
of dirt. They seem to be deciding if it is time to change places but as yet they
Overhead I hear the sounds of the birds and the red winged blackbirds have
made their summer home on the island closer to the shore.
Casa sits quietly close to the table. She is my shadow; if I move she follows
Except for the sounds of the birds and the call of the loons, a gentle breeze
echoes through the trees.
As I walk around the property I can see that the wild rose bush is not in
bloom yet, but there are many small flowers about. Some of the tiny white
blossoms will turn to good Maine blueberries and if I am back in time I might
get some before the birds do.
Camelot rests peaceful beneath the Maine ground. She was my cat for 17
years. Born in Maine and partly raised in Melrose. She returned to Maine 16
years ago to sleep beneath the land where she was born. One of my friends,
who did the sculpture of the heron by the water, made Camelotís headstone.
It was her last work before she also passed away. Both human and animal
were good friends.
It is not your sun-shiny day but it is a good day. To watch the loons, listen to
the ongoing sounds of the birds and breezes make it a peaceful day.
Casa lies quietly on the picnic table. The drizzle falls gently and it is getting
late; but what a wonderful day it has been.
July 3, 2015