We bloggers, like the ever-expanding list of streaming services, are always looking for new content. But, in the middle of this oppressive summer, there seems to be little new to report.
Here along the Colorado Front Range, it is sunny, hot and dry. The summer songbirds on our farm, nearly silenced by the heat, scavenge the parched landscape, joined by a pair of skunks that emerge at dusk. The news is clogged with Covid reports and the crazed tweets from Our Dear Leader. Only the early morning chill provides the incentive to get some yard work done.
Then, as I retreated to the shade of an elm to read, I caught sight of a white pelican, circling high overhead. Oblivious of the heat and disturbing news, it seemed to offer an omen that life will improve: the monsoon will develop, autumn will arrive, the pandemic will end and Trump will be banished from Washington.
Here along the Colorado Front Range, it is sunny, hot and dry. The summer songbirds on our farm, nearly silenced by the heat, scavenge the parched landscape, joined by a pair of skunks that emerge at dusk. The news is clogged with Covid reports and the crazed tweets from Our Dear Leader. Only the early morning chill provides the incentive to get some yard work done.
Then, as I retreated to the shade of an elm to read, I caught sight of a white pelican, circling high overhead. Oblivious of the heat and disturbing news, it seemed to offer an omen that life will improve: the monsoon will develop, autumn will arrive, the pandemic will end and Trump will be banished from Washington.
