Our two remaining ducklings out of eight are almost all grown up. Their baby fuzz has turned to the mottled brown adult feathers. They splash and motor around the pond, quacking loudly, sometimes with Mommy Duck and sometimes just together. They can even fly right out of the water now. We sit and watch them as we eat dinner.
I love to travel, but there is also something magical and soothing about sitting still in one place and watching the season pass. The sun rises later. Mornings are darker and cooler. The yard and hills are fringed and splotched with browns. The light and colors are softer, less neon, than when we arrived in late October. The sounds too seem more muffled without the bleating lambs that accompanied our arrival to New Zealand.
I await the change to fall with some sadness. The boys are back to school and the weather will get colder. But, then thoughts turn to visions of crisp snowy mountains and skiing! We haven't had winter in a year with the timing of our southern migration.
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