Tap, tap, tap, from the woodpecker in the dead tree. A warble of melodies from the mockingbird as it follows me down the meadow to the creek, our resident guard bird. After lap five I award myself with the pleasure of sitting creek-side. Many surprises await, as spring jumps right into summer and the temperature soars to the mid-eighties.
Red-winged blackbirds, bright yellow finches, a cardinal highlighted in the greenery of leaves working to open…a pair of muskrats swim back and forth, leaving small wakes behind them. The blue heron, very shy, unaware of my presence, spreads it’s wide wings floating the air current past me then resting at the creek’s edge, stone still, like a statue staring at the water, awaiting a fish for its dinner. Frogs burp their deep basses, and lastly, the brown duck flies into its box to keep her eggs warm. That’s a delight because she is also extremely shy.
I walk back to the house as the black flies start to become annoying, wondering to myself, where did spring go? So do the daffodils and tulips which expired from exhaustion and heat way too soon. My day is complete and at peace.