The dusk is gently painting it's muted colors on the waters of the pond here outside the cabin where I make myself at home on the weekends. A kingfisher has moved to a spot on the pond as well. His blue and black form can be seen diving for baby fish during the day.
T. tells me that the peepers were out last night. Oh the peepers! How wonderful to hear them start to sing in the spring. I always feel sorry for the first batch however. They sing their little hearts out prematurely, then it freezes and the first ones die out. Soon enough the warmth will be here to stay and so will the peepers...until of course they get too old for peeping.
Sherman, my name for one of the little dogs who lives here, has apparently missed me. I dropped my suitcase by this afternoon and then headed off for an appointment. The story is that he lay in the wet grass staring at the parking lot all afternoon. The loyalty of little furry creatures is touching. And I was off being disloyal, walking with a friend and her dogs. We visited the wonderful waterfall, and then went to the lake and walked. We talked, solved a few of the world's problems (if the world would just listen to us!), and ate our lunches.
Have a peaceful evening friends.
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