Yesterday morning I agreed that a short drive might be in order.
Went to brush my teeth and came back out to find: Silence.
When Grant goes downstairs I often don’t hear a sound for hours, yet somehow I know he’s there.
Yesterday I knew he wasn’t.
The intention had been to do shopping and take a scenic route home, but clearly he had already gone.
In hot weather it would be better to take the scenic route going, but somehow after a ride, who would feel like shopping?
There is no logic to this, I realise.
It turned out that in the 2 minutes I’d been brushing my teeth etc, Grant had come to the same conclusion.
Shopping and taking a drive became two separate outings.
Fascinating, right? The point is: how does one feel an absence without proof?
Generally I hear little noises from downstairs I suppose, without even noticing, but not always.
It’s just an observation.
Of no importance whatsoever.
Fast forward to this morning, when I went to the front door…
Grant appeared to have been both coming and going when he was seemingly abducted.
But I knew he hadn’t been.
He was downstairs, even though I couldn’t hear any of those usual sounds.
Presumably his sandals got wet in the morning dew and had been left to dry.
Maybe I need to get out more?
Having put away the shopping, we set off in some vague direction and the driver promptly overshot a turn he had intended to take, so we found ourselves once more in unexplored territory.
In the short time since I was out last week, the corn has shot up and it changes the landscape sufficiently to become disorienting.
Mystery trips are always the best.
Often dirt roads like this turn out to be somebody’s driveway.
In this case it was not and we found ourselves passing some quite up-market properties which normally warrant a better road.
Perhaps they prefer anonymity.
Talk about leafy lanes!
You never go far here without crossing a railroad track.
A few of them are still active, though I would venture to say not this one.
So what is the story with these carriages, one either side of the crossing?
With a clear blue sky, it was the best sort of day. The sort of day when it’s comfortable to sit in the shade of a large tree, sipping cool libations.
Except for biting insects.
Though, and I probably shouldn’t say it, our insects are not as bad as last year.
We’ve seen few butterflies and certainly no Monarchs. Usually in June there are lots of fireflies but I have seen none so far.
Things always vary, but I am sure what we see is related to climate change in all its many forms.
Our seasons are screwy.
In April we had a few of the hottest days followed (mercifully) by a prolonged cool period.
Winter seems to arrive later each year.
Based no doubt, on my pessimistic nature, certainly not on scientific data, I think we will have hot weather through September when we should be getting those lovely Fall days.
Will we even get snow before the end of the year? Not so long ago, you could count on it.
At my stage of life it really makes no difference.
But it matters to farmers.
We could not get away from those tracks!
Time to make tracks home for cat lunches.
But first we had to check on a friend:
Luckily, it was at home.
It was making like a praying mantis.
“Tourists and their perishing cameras!”
It seems strange that ospreys are happy to nest above a busy road.
(Busy by our standards.)
It’s so cool that they do.