What is that shining blinding orb in the sky?
The sun has returned. Finally. It's been a dreary, gray, cold, rainy spring.
Yesterday the fine young gents and I went to the pond. Painters arrived at our house, early and unexpectedly and we had a burning desire not necessarily to see nature, but to get away from the paint smell and strangers in the house. When we left it was gray and cloudy. By the time we arrived at the pond with our things, it was glorious, sunny and cool.
We hung out by the pond for a couple hours, watching birds. We saw great blue herons circling overhead and a mama duck with six fluffy ducklings, watched the tree swallows skimming and swooping and circling and feeding babies in the nest boxes at the edge of the pond, and spied on a starling's nest in a lampost. Best of all, we saw a green heron, a bird we've been longing to see. It flew to the pond just as we arrived, perched on a branch in the middle of the water, then flew away, probably searching for a quieter spot. Our spring bird study has blossomed into a love of birds, birdwatching, learning the names of different birds, observing their habits.
Around lunchtime we wandered across the bridge for a picnic, played in the field, saw an osprey soaring overhead, played a round of Poohsticks.
I forgot sunscreen. Lately, preventative packing has been more along the lines of boots and raincoats. I'm out of the sunscreen habit. The fine young gents are relatively unscathed. The eldest of the gents has one red ear, and the edges of his neck recently exposed by a haircut are a little pink. His brothers are just fine.
My own face is bright red.
A kind friend said to me yesterday, "Oh, you look so tan. I was wondering if you'd been out in the sun today." Well, cool, I thought, until I saw my lobster face in the mirror.
We're off the the pond again today at the request of the gents, and I've got a list of items that we forgot yesterday: A blanket for sitting, the pond-dipping backpack, hats, a black pencil, sunglasses. And sunscreen.