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April 29, 2017


Owls are still calling to each other and deer are wading in the water as the sun begins to paint the day. It's windy today and the trees, all leaved out in green, are undulating as though to a song only they can hear. Rain is in the forecast. I can smell it's promise in the air. - - True North

Posted by gerardvanderleun at April 29, 2017 8:25 AM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.

Your Say

It's the raspiness at the end of the great horned owl's call that can be heard when they are close enough - almost scary, primitive. Around here, now, the rain isn't just a promise.

Posted by: ghostsniper at April 29, 2017 2:24 PM

Nicely put that 'raspiness' at the end of the call -- maybe an exclamation point.

Posted by: Howard Nelson at April 29, 2017 7:01 PM

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