Lisa and I are fortunate to work with each other. It’s pretty special to work with your best friend. Come the weekend, we head out for breakfast in the bush, careless and free, even more so now, than we were younger with heaps of responsibility.
Spring is turning. Plenty more light. It is mud or ice. Both are slippery. Birds are returning. We hear them. The small songbirds are difficult to see in the rain, hidden in the branches, avoiding the rain.
The swans and geese, passing through, kick up a fuss in the valley bottom.
On the way home, I rolled the window down travelling the farmers field so we could listen for Meadowlarks.
Pileated Woodpecker showing off.
The bush changes from day to day, season to season.