First, the weary sun faded from saffron to a brassy copper tint as thin eastbound clouds

[Atticus]

began to shroud it. Now, it blends shades of apricot and plum as it seems to at last surrender to the gravity of the coming night.

Mourning doves and whipporwills begin the evening's soundtrack, but are soon replaced by spring peepers, crickets and an early bullfrog at the far end of the pond.

Mother's Day brought our children home for chocolate cake and coffee al fresco. Mrs. A was honored as she should be.

Today, life here is good.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. Seems to me that you have a poetic heart, my dear Atticus...

This reads like a poem.

And it's beautiful!

Thank you for sharing your moment. May there be many in your life.