Preen, Preen, Preen

The duck just gets uglier.

To a Waterfowl

 All over the island, they were close enough to reach out and give a pat on the head. They were dumb enough.

Fake Forest

I hope you understand:

“Nature hit you in the eye so plainly and grabbed you so fiercely and so tangibly by the scruff of the neck that perhaps it really was still full of gods.” 

-from Doctor Zhivago, by Boris Pasternak

Bad Advice

Today I had my ducks in a row, and I was going to approach them, and ask them what to do next, because Lord knows I could use the advice. The ground was rife with skunk-cabbage blooms, which is just to say that it was a time and place of humble creatures, the duck (I believe) being among them. I was on duck-terrain, in duck-alignment (or so I thought), when they all seemed to disappear north in a sudden gust. And there I was, surrounded by skunk-cabbage, up a creek.

Warmer

It snowed last night, and again today, and the geese, who'd flown north already, turned around and went back again. I heard them on my walk this morning, sounding all sad and agitated on their way. I am on my way, too, going to Richmond tomorrow. It'll be just a little warmer and just a little less lonely, I hear.

Outing

Zinzi came to the park for a picnic with us today.

We saw some blackbirds fighting in the grass.

Zinzi was awfully frightened.

We still managed to have a nice time.