Seasons turn

The dogs and I were out back when a great honking came from down by the bay.

Our 3.33 acres are divided in three parts — up here where the house and field are and we spend most of our time, a woods we visit sometimes that slopes downward toward the water, and finally a wetlands that essentially belongs to us only on paper, where the wildlife have at it undisturbed.

The property line is maybe 150 feet from the bay of Green Bay, so this would count as “water view” property, not waterfront, if it weren’t for the woods. It’s only water view when the leaves are off the trees, and technically then it’s an ice view most of the time.

The honking came nearer, and soon about a half-dozen to eight geese lifted noisily over the trees and turned southeast in a “V.” More honking, and maybe another dozen or so followed the first bunch. Finally the third and largest wave came into view, maybe 50 geese in this group, turning in the same direction, three Vs each larger than the one in front, heading southeast. Actually, late November seems a bit late in the season for their migration, but there they went.

I waved and said, “So long, see you in the spring.” The dogs kept sniffing the ground. No doubt they notice the turning of the seasons, but they don’t make as much of a deal of it as humans do.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of It's Going to Be All Right, Echoes of Freedom Past, Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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