A good day to start life

Like little alien podlets, future flowers of Clematis dangle. A promise of things to come. The dry ground cracks, hanging out for the rain, the clear blue sky denies, day after day after day. The sun, relentless on new growth, curling leaves and petals alike with gay abandon, almost before giving a glimpse of the glory they had to offer.

Birds, with swollen throats, call to potential mates, while others flit from ground to nest, feeding ravenous off-spring; greedily watched by snoozing felines - too fat and well-fed to chance the journey upwards. Following with eyes only.

And Big Red. Flopping from sun to shade. His summer ritual well-rehearsed though spring is barely upon us.

Hard to remember the short, cold days of winter. As if consigned to some long ago archive. From here on, only warm days, filled with sunshine, bird-song and laughter. Of dappled sunlight through gently-swaying leaves and clothes gaily wafting the scent of cleaness.

And love? Oh yes, 'tis the season of love. And here I sit alone, thinking, smiling and listening to the sounds of others living on this glorious day.

========================================================

Sometimes I just like to write. Today was one of those days.

A sunny and productive day.

A sunset walk with Cousteau (aka. Big Red) and B.

The pièce de résistance? This little filly - hours old, dead on her feet from the fatigue of being alive but managing the occasional frollick despite herself.

Welcome on this fine day, Montana Skye.

And thank you to Fernridge for giving me my baby fix and letting me coo over her.

Off to bed in a mo. Might have a bath first.

Night.