Mary and I walked
this morning. In the distant haze we saw a great blue heron. Farther on, everything disappeared into the greyness. There is blue sky overhead. It was as beautiful a morning as I have ever seen. When the sun heats up, it'll be a cooker of a day.
It was a peaceful walk. When we returned home and M. turned TV on to watch for the weather while she had her coffee, the sound of the program irritated me. I'd rather the birds, always the birds.
As I step outside to go to work, the sound of a small plane in the distance, working. It sounds like a spray plane. I do not know what it would be spraying today, or where.
Down the hill the still pond - its edginess like that of a great blue heron waiting to be disturbed.
No wind in the flag at the cemetery today.
Last evening driving home from work I saw that a drilling rig had been set up at the new irrigation site along Highway E north of Fairwater. The driller's truck is gone this morning, or at least the drill has been taken down.
Half a mile south of Five Corners, off to my left, a spray plane, bright white against a grey haze to the west. At Five Corners the old farmer works his flower beds; his blue pick-up shines in the sun, his blue overalls soak both sun and sweat already this morning.