It's never a simple trip, there's usually something to carry out or carry back (or both), and even tonight when my only mission was to throw a plastic tub over the mower in case of rain, and pull the little shed doors shut, I had to stand on the porch steps first getting used to the early evening not-quite-dark, admiring the peepers and little frogs singing joyously (well I have to assume so, it is May, after all) in the run at the bottom of the field.
And the the appreciation of stepping out onto the lawn in bare feet and no jacket, after a winter of traveling outside swathed in the coat, the hat, the gloves, the boots, only to roll up a car window. But now the winter coats are inside, and I am not. I feel twelve years old again, marching bravely and barefooted across the night lawn with the cat padding loudly beside me.
on the way back I heard a barky noise, one Ive heard before this year, sort of a sneezy single bark but apparently high off the ground. Finally looked it up on google and by a process of elimination and incredible intuitive leaping, realized I was hearing a grey fox. They do climb trees, and if startled, the site said, will warn you with a hoarse bark that sounds like a cough.
Good for him, good for me. Happy May 1st.