“Every night, before he turned in, he would write in the book. He wrote about things he had done, things he had seen, and thoughts he had had. Sometimes he drew a picture. He always ended by asking himself a question so he would have something to think about while falling asleep.”
― E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
We find a back farm road full of winter birds. They are something to watch when they take off or land. The autumn colors are the perfect backdrop for their beauty.
The kids drop Percy off for a spur of the moment visit while they run out to meet some friends. He and I clean his sandbox trucks off so he can play with them in the house. Later I go to bed thinking about how grateful I am that we made this move three years ago.