Oh, Peter, welcome back! I don't care how you fly to and fro, as long as you come back to us!

Yesterday, I was at a store, coming out into the parking lot. Earlier in the week, I had been saddened by the reslisation that I had not heard any geese, yet, this year. Then, in that mundane setting, almost to my car, I heard the wind-carried honk from high, high above. Shielding my eyes from the bright sun, I scanned the sky directly overhead and spotted them. A huge V of geese, tirelessly flapping their way south towards Colorado and parts beyond. I was so happy. Usually I would holler at teh kids or Rog or somebody to come see. That day, the only one around was my boder collie, Merlee, a very observant dog who rarely misses anything. He dutifully sat up and wagged his tail at me and made the appropriate signs of interest while I exclaimed to him, "Look, Merls, it the GEESE! First ones this winter to finally head south. Look!"

It has ever been thus for me, since early childhood. Somehow, even though I know intellectually that the world is being decimated by humankind's consumption, emotionally it feels as though the geese flying south in winter, north in spring, are a declaration from the Cosmic, telling me that "all's right with the world". I have to believe it is, on some level of existence.

kat