Friday, June 11, 2010

Picnics, A visitor, After a long day at work

1. I smell cut grass and smoke. It draws memories of the clam steam picnics my father would prepare, cutting the grass and laying the coals for an all day fire.
2. A young Bobwhite pecks through my flower bed. I've heard their gentle call in the fields all these years, but this is the first one I have actually seen. I call the girls and we crowd in the window to watch.
3. A quick little lick of the lips, done subconsciously, as he brings the icy cold beverage up for his first sip.

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