It's a fine, fine morning. The sun's shining, and sure I may need a jacket, but out on the step it is glorious! The birds and frogs are making all kinds of noise, the good kind. Now that I've watched the last two episodes of this week's Coronation Street, I'm going to brew a second pot of coffee and go stroll around the yard with a mug in my hand. Maybe I'll keep my long underwear on — I donned it this morning to wear while watching TV so that it wouldn't be necessary to curl up under a blanket — under my jeans. (Curling up while sitting is a habit of mine that isn't the best thing for my back and neck; posture, donchaknow. It's a hard habit to change.)
So much for the leisurely Sunday mornings catching up with my favourite online reading. That's for winter. Everything changes when the wind hasn't whipped up yet and the ducks and frogs are doing their spring thing and even the magpies are making music to my ears. I slept last night with the bedroom window open so I could hear the frogs. The only bird that I haven't heard yet is the sora:
Here you go; you can hear its call on this page: click here.
They will call to each other late into the night, once they get here.
I still haven't figured out which bird cackles like an old witch, out there.
