Quiet

It's quiet here on a Sunday afternoon, and anyway, it's early in the season for much lake action. I thought about a paddle, but I would just get cold and hurry back, so against the worst aspects of my personality, I will be patient for warmer weather. There are thick piles of clouds that let the sun through for a few minutes now and then to make brilliant sparkling diamonds in lines on the surface of the water. There are little birds flying just over the surface of the water, circling and dipping and darting, barely missing each other in their acrobatics. Catching insects, I assume, but I do not know what kind they are and that bothers me. Alone here, I have time to see if we have any bird identification books, or I guess I could try to look it up online. The view to the water is at its best this time of year, I suspect. The branches are nearly bare so you can see the lake water and the shore beyond, but there is a bit of green leafing out at the tips of the branches so the trees are not so barren as they are in the winter. It looks deceptively springlike, until you venture out without warm enough clothing. It's quiet here, no boats, no people, just birds and squirrels and the creaking of the house as it heats and cools.