As some of you know, our friend Rock Star is in town for his Spring Break. Matt is taking the week off work, and I myself am taking Wednesday through Friday off. So, in short, as much of my posting here comes at the expense of work, I shall probably not post further this week.

Our house, as previously mentioned, looks out on a small park where a creek dribbles innocuously by and ducks practice their mystic chants in expectation of the Webbed Old One’s return. It has long been too cold, too wet, and too muddy to contemplate a closer acquaintance with this park, but Sunday, as bands of cats criss-crossed the sward, children ran hither and yon in the sun, and nutria clambered out of the water to peer balefully at Spring, it seemed time.

We three tramped through the little park and continued to aimlessly take footpath after footpath through the suburbs, until we arrived at other parks, and from there, places that barely looked like suburbs at all—nascent orchards in their first three feet of growth, fields of tall, yellow-green grass beaten down by feet and bike tires. In the suburbs we saw extravagant lines, beds, and flurries of croci, and boisterous children. In the forgotten places we passed through a cloud of thick smoke as a family or neighborhood had the first barbecue of the season.

Finally we threaded our way back, and spent a while watching a large flotilla of ducks at the far end of the park. From our window we usually only see the common Mallard Ducks, but here we saw a great many of a smaller duck I didn’t recall seeing before. They were delicate, dusty, rosy things, and I have since discovered they were American Widgeons. We also saw a particularly large schooner that long eluded my keen googling skills, but which I have finally identified as a Muscovy Drake. This is the picture I’ve found that most closely resembles what I saw, as they vary a good deal. Ours had a white throat with occasional flecks of black, a more delicate red rugose region around the bill, and a gorgeous but subtle iridescent black body. I felt bad for him because he was alone, and such an ugly duck(ling) amongst those delicate creatures. He was quite lovely in his own way, though.

Spring!