The first geese flew over today, heading north for summer feeding and breeding. It feels as if it might really be spring. I love the song of the skein - honking and bantering with each other - and the way their formation makes letters of some runic alphabet, spelling out what? Blessings? A story? A joke? Does each skein have their own routine? Do they write the same text on the sky every year?
That sheep is back. Grrr...
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