Yesterday was frosty and white. Just a light dusting, yet the air stung when I ventured outside to refill the bird feeders and was suggestive of what it must feel like to suffer stage one of frostbite. Well – to a Californian. And I forgot to put on my gloves.
I can see why the flocks are moving south. They’re moving out in droves now. It must, indeed, be time. I can only hope that my lone, visiting Canada Goose, gathered her strength, rejoined her kin, and is now happily soaring towards the gulf of Mexico.
And what of my other lone resident? Every day I’ve been checking on the Snow Goose and every day she is still there, the one white spot in a diminishing sea of brown. Until yesterday. A fairy tale creature (in my mind) deserves a fairy tale ending and, since I’m the author of this story, I’m calling it good!
"Some day my Prince will come!"
He approaches.............
Will she notice?
TO BE CONTINUED…………………….
