How many people get to pedal past scenery like this on their way to the post office? Chuckanut Mountain is so serene on a day like this.
Maples along the way are on fire. Trees have it all figured out. They know it’s pointless to go to all the effort of making leaves that last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Spring for a new set every year at least, and when this year’s set is wore out, let the wind drop them to the ground.
Back home, Claire and her ducklings are helping me plant garlic. Actually, I’m doing all the work. They’re just waiting for me to uncover some insect morsel for them to savor. Though it is a mystery what it is they are often eating. They see things my eyes, don’t, and when they spot it, it’s in their bill or down their beak before I’ve had a chance to see it.
I did see a duckling sample a garlic glove. After squeezing it between it’s bill a few times, it decided there are better things to eat, which means I probably don’t have to worry about the ducklings eating the garlic. I’ll sleep well tonight knowing that.