loons, between the cries

[A journal entry from my vacation at lake front property.]

Loons are not silent when they are not nature’s mournful cry. No, they make a small hooting sound to each other, like small talk at a party before they must say something loud and meaningful. I heard the loons first by their small talk while reading on the dock. It’s the little things that one learns that is fascinating.

Just before it rains..

[yet another journal entry while on vacation.]

There is a moment before the rain starts when just a few scattered, random drops fall on the waters of the lake. They are so few when they fall that if you are lucky and there is no wind, preceding the impending precipitation, they sound like the individual strikings of a harp’s strings. Random, no mind to melody or rhythm.

Rain

[A journal entry from my lake front vacation.]

There are very specific types of rain. This is not a new thought–I believe the native American Indians categorized rain and named them uniquely. Perhaps categorized is too far, but one certainly could after experiencing so many types of rain at the lodge (my vacation spot of choice). But one thing is constant for today’s rain, it is not the ending type of rain. No, most certainly it is not. The advantage is, however, that again I get to be lazy with no remorse.