At first I offered a bitter laugh at the status of Canada Goose as cherished visitor to DM's pond and grounds (on which, we Reginans know, the primary figures will be shit and feathers). Seeing no point in that, I took a stab at chasing them off, succeeding in casting four of them into flight over the bluffs and lake Ontario while the others simply shuffled further away. Seeing no point in that either, I began to enjoy them enjoying the light, the sipping of pond, the airing-out, even the tap-tapping of my pen on the glass table in the porch/gazebo/geesebo.
I'm humbled by the opportunity to live here, where Doris McCarthy worked well into her 90s. Lately I've been chanting to myself about doing what I'm on this goosey planet to do: write. Here, it's about keeping faith with DM.