At 9 am I have had my breakfast, peddled for 40 minutes and read two chapters of my book. Now I am sitting at the damp picnic table just listening and looking.
It is silent except for the sounds of the birds; De, De, De of the chickadees, and the soft song of the goldfinches.
No breeze, the temperature 50 degrees, (feels like 40), and the songs I hear today are gentle and sweet.
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The lake is like a mirror, smooth and clear as the tall pines reflect themselves upside down through the water.
The bent over birches create an entrance to the future as the bare mirror branches shine upwards from the lake.
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The goldfinch are now settling at the feeders that have been empty these two weeks that I have been gone; and will soon be gone again.
Tiny buds are appearing on some of the trees, but not as quickly as in the city. They act slowly and cautiously with the ever changing temperature.
The lake is low, the lowest in many years, but none the less beautiful as it reflects the trees, the blue sky, and today.
