Rewards are not for the birds

A reward for a good writing day is a walk by the lake, usually just about the time the sun is thinking about thinking about setting.

The water has so many moods. Two days ago it was lapping noisily at the rocks, but this afternoon it was merely whispering secrets.

If I go about this time I notice the birds line up on the dock barriers and I think of last Christmas when I was at my mom’s in Florida and about the same time of day the birds would cover her back lawn. Then one by one, as if guided by some avian air controller they would take off and land on the trees on the lake behind her house.

The last couple of times I had forgotten my camera, thinking I had enough lake pictures, because photos can’t capture the sound and smell of the water. Today I remembered it. The birds were waiting for me, although they didn't know it.