Thanks, Bill. It’s been very dry here. We drove further north one day, a familiar drive, and I was struck by how stressed very tall fir trees were. But the rains came, enough to reach the deep roots, I’m sure.
I like watching the water birds, too, as you know. In your poem, “white” as a symbol of purity: how nature should be allowed to exist and continue. I know we have lots of work to do.
bill, in feeling this refreshing moment, this will be the gist of my comment, for the moment…
Thanks, Bill. It’s been very dry here. We drove further north one day, a familiar drive, and I was struck by how stressed very tall fir trees were. But the rains came, enough to reach the deep roots, I’m sure.
I like watching the water birds, too, as you know. In your poem, “white” as a symbol of purity: how nature should be allowed to exist and continue. I know we have lots of work to do.
Blessed weekend, Ellen
rain filled
puddles —
doves remain grey, anyway
–