A beautiful morning here, with sunshine for the first time in a while. It didn't last, unfortunately, but we're hoping this front passes through and we'll have clear, cool air for a while.
An anhinga has been hanging around lately. I don't tell Peggy they're also known as snakebirds because anything with the word "snake" in it gives her an anxiety attack.
This morning it greeted us from a perch atop the fish house.
We watched him dry his wings by spreading them as if embracing the morning sunlight, then fly off into a tree on our island.
Just then Peggy's favorites, the whistling ducks, came flying over head, alighting in the duckweed we never got around to spraying.
Across the pond, a great egret fished in the marsh grass while our old buddy the fox squirrel hopped around next to it along the shore, like something out of the Song of the South. I half expected one of them to burst into song.
We threw out some food for the bream and catfish, which the ducks and geese voraciously attacked. Our turtles, all named Darnell after the turtle guy in My Name is Earl, ventured sheepishly into the slick of fish food, only to be knocked aside by the catfish.
Afterward, the geese chilled out in the pond, while the ducks walked around complaining about who knows what. It is their way to complain.
P and I lingered over our coffee at the fish house a little longer than usual today, taking in the moment and enjoying the parade of all these fellow creatures who've been our life these last six months. This morning felt like a curtain call to me, as they all came out on the stage one last time and brought a smile as we thought of this time together, this time that draws to a close or a transition as the weather turns cooler and things slow down. We'll miss the pandemic summer at Wyldswood, I suspect, and see it as the best season of our lives.
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