Finally. What I’ve been waiting for since we returned from the South—warm weather. The rains that filled the stream out back and brought back the fears of to two years ago and the flood are simply a memory. They may return, but for now the skies are filled with big puffy clouds that may develop into a storm later today, but I’m happy to be sitting on my back deck overlooking the creek and enjoying an occasional breeze.
I did the same yesterday, my computer on the table in front of me working on what I hope will be the final edit for my book A Secondhand Murder scheduled for release September 15. The manuscript is in Adobe so you can imagine how frustrating that is, but it’s made far easier by what I see when I lift my gaze from the computer to the scene in front of me. Yesterday the Canada geese we’d noticed in the region brought their kids down to the stream to have play time. It looked very much like taking the gamily to the beach on the weekend. They were joined by several crows who usually claim the beach for their own, hence our name for it, “Crow Beach”. They didn’t seem to mind the company. In addition to the Canadas was a white goose, bigger than all the rest. I couldn’t see if it was an albino (I don’t even know if birds some in albino form) or simply a regular goose who had adopted the Canada family as its own. It seemed to be well accepted as it swam among the children and adults, Maybe it was the nanny or a baby sitter hired for the day.
This morning our resident woodchuck occupied our backyard at the creek’s edge bringing with her a smaller “chuck”. We were going to trap her, but now Glenn is afraid to separate the two and is obsessing about how he can capture them together. The young one is well able to find for itself, but Glenn doesn’t like to break up the family. I’m sympathetic, but pointed out he can move them both to the same spot. They’ll find one another again. He’s putting this off. I can’t blame him, but it’s not going to settle itself. We already moved a chipmunk to the cemetery across the stream. No, no. Not dead. We trapped the little bugger and moved him live. The cemetery is a beautiful place for a chipper critter and would make a great home for our chucks too. We like seeing them until they begin to eat our garden then it’s time for the moving truck.
The stream is back down from high water several weeks ago. It flows gently toward our property, then rushes over the rocks to drop several feet and continue its flow past our house. I can hear it babble and see the white ripples sparkle as the sunlight hits them.
It’s clear now, revealing large rocks on the bottom. People come down to the bank on the other side of the stream to swim and wade often bringing their dogs who seem to enjoy a brief dip also. It’s become the community pool in these hot days. Last weekend while the water was still high and the days still cool, several adolescents came by on inner tubes enjoying the excitement of being twirled and dunked by the whirlpool at the base of the downed willow trees just in front of our yard.
Well, you get the idea. It’s so tranquil here, a feast for the soul. What’s that I hear? The blackbirds, crows, a cardinal and two squirrels are chorusing a message for me, saying, “Get busy editing,” so I must go, but I hope you enjoyed this little reprieve from work as much as I did. Do you take soul satisfying breaks? What are they like?