More than a month has gone by since we returned from Ireland.
Summer, now in full-throat, has won the day. Hot days and hot nights with just the occasional respite. On those days, we open the windows to the fresh air and the to the songs of birds.
When I can, I bike to a lake and watch the sunlight twinkling on the breeze-stirred water, and watch red-wing blackbirds moving among the cattails.
Sometimes as I sit I try to count the many different bird songs that float about me. Having no ear for identifying bird songs, I can only listen and enjoy.
Occasionally one I think I have never heard will drift out of some tree, and I will turn my head and try to see the singer of the song.
Most of the time though, I just sit and let the songs wash over me, and let my thoughts go where they will.