The early morning light on Sunday morning was achingly beautiful: the sky was a soft pinkish grey fading up into blue and down into orange, the clouds fluffy and under lit by the rising sun. The utter absence of human-made sounds highlighted the plethora of feathered voices. Robins, mourning doves, blue jays and sparrows are courting and offering their best performances to the morning. Verdant green blades are poking through the tired brown sod.
(A portion of an article I wrote a while back. In greener times . . .)