Territorial dispute at St Leonards.
Geese flying overhead wake me as it is getting light at about 5.30 this morning. The call of the wild. Sleepy as I am, I would jump out of bed if I thought that I would be able to see them through the window in the restricted patch of sky above the tulip tree and the roofs of neighbouring houses. Or I would run down stairs and out of the door, if there would be time before they fly on. As it is, I lie and listened to the their fading cries and imagine the V formation of their flight against the brightening sky.
Having made a compilation of photographs for our forthcoming family gathering, I realize how remiss I have been in keeping my family photographs in drawers and boxes without a name or place or date on the back. Aunts, I do not know which aunts, in contrast, annotated who, when and where in the carefully maintained albums of snaps to which I have been referring. I feel disproportionally grateful.
2 comments:
What a magical thing to wake to...
I have heard it before at this time of year. It makes me restless and causes me to wonder whether I should be somewhere else.
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