Notes
Glorious. Cloudy start with wind, leading to brilliant black and blue sky. Every imaginable bird in the woods singing. Spotted a bright red tanager with greenish female. And then, THEN, I was stopped briefly along Tornado Road looking for the yearly tadpoles in the big puddle when from somewhere down in the wooded valley, the sound of a trumpet playing the theme from "The Summer of '42" drifted up. So...remarkable, lonely, and perfect. Not one other soul anywhere in sight. I stood there and listened, thinking about the strangeness of everything right now and how that sort of sad/nostalgic melody was just about right. Then the song ended, I clapped out toward the valley, and jogged along toward Nine Mile Hill.