Today the sun was shining low in the sky, and the wind blew across the yard lifting the few shriveled brown leaves of last summer out of the wire webbing on the chain link fence and sending the clouds racing so fast they don’t have time to change shape.
Joan’s sure the neighbor’s ancient oak is going to crash land on our house one of these days. It would be a shame since it’s a beautiful tree, but she also doesn’t like the idea of my lying in the yard within reach of its noisy branches. It’s not as though the wind is howling; but it is whooshing on the loud side. I like the feel of the wind under my fur; it makes me feel fresh and light. Just to get back at Joan for making me come in—you know, because of the tree—I splashed in a puddle and got myself all wet.
Shane doesn’t get me, and Joan's still sick. Alas. I might as well sleep.
Best wishes, Juno
No comments:
Post a Comment