Evening

It is evening, and a great quietness has shadowed our small corner of Vermont with the peace of a young spring night. I think I can call it spring now. April is here, and with it, the arrival of countless chickadees, a pair of very cute and oh-so-fat mourning doves on our back porch, and a flock of geese flying North, spotted during dinnertime. It is a time when I think fondly of warm mornings in the almond orchards, those mornings with the feeling that is entirely unique to the San Joaquin valley; the tangy smell of oranges, rumble of lowing cattle from the dairies, the occasional pungent whiff of garlic from that Ranch, the name of which I can never remember. Those were special times. And I am continually forming new fond memories, scattered across several countries, and at the moment, here nestled amongst the Green Mountains of a rural snowy state. Every now and then I stop and just soak it all in -- the quick, hearty laugh of a brother, the dripping of melted snow from the eves, the warm crackle of fresh bread, and maybe that naughty little April Fool's joke that somebody (who will go unnamed) played on me... (really got me, too).

So I am grateful. It is late now, and the sun has disappeared behind Camel's Hump, and the sunflower seeds lie on our porch, waiting for some hungry little doves to find them tomorrow. I'm very happy it's April.