May 27, 2017
For the record, whatever I’m recording this for, today was one of those days: unexpectedly beautiful. I anticipated gray skies and a cold spring drizzle, and I was rewarded, we were all rewarded, for whatever reason, with sunshine, cool temps, and still not enough bugs to be too bothersome. That’s why I live in our village, on this lake: to sink into days like this.
On days like this it doesn’t matter if it’s going to rain tomorrow. On days like this it’s enough to be here, right here, right now. On days like this the wrens get along with the robins, the robins get along with the ravens, and the ravens get along with the raptors. On days like this there’s a section of lake shoreline for the tadpoles, and the fish leave them alone to guard their own strings of eggs, and nobody bothers them. The heron flies in to roost, and croaks to no one in particular, for no reason in particular, just to be alive. The beaver patrols the lake, and doesn’t even bother to slap the water at me, because we’re all out enjoying this glorious day.
I ran into two neighbors on my rare walk along the lake today. Needless to tell you, you weren’t one of them. I didn’t know what to say to them, to Mr. Bellis—always so introspective yet so proper—and to Marquetta Mason—that crazy doddering old woman you’ve probably seen sticking her nose in other people’s business. Again, needless to say—although I’d never have the courage to actually say it—I’m more attracted to younger folks like you than I am to people a little older than I am.
And now you’ve come over: the perfect ending to the perfect day. Nearly perfect.