3.28.16 the tender sheen of the wet wet road

 This evening the day was still light, the air cool but not cold,

 the rain paused from its ardent filling of the waster table for all summer long. 

So off we went, down to Summit Road, arriving just as a flock of Starlings was finishing up their evening chorale , perched high in the Maple. 

The fog was sifting across the fields from the river, up through the forest all along the small range.

 Two Eagles perched near each other in a tree overhead, one with their wings held out a bit, possibly due to such rain. 

So we ran up and down the road, the pup imagining bunnies here and there in the deep grasses, that are all coming to life, transforming from that deep winter gold into most vibrant tender green. 

He stopped and grazed for a bit, as I stood, enjoying this day. Enjoying the sight of the far off hills, the clouds overhead, the evening mist rolling in. 

The sheen of the wet wet road before me, the crimson hue to all the hills, as the teams of Maples ready themselves for their burst into growing season, finally out of the woods of the long winter's rest.