“A cheerful sound pierces my gloom. “Someone sure is cackling,” I think, “having a grand old time. Lucky her.” Then a throng joins in and the infectious sound of laughter almost lures me out of my funk. Almost. But I resolutely hold fast to my righteous indignation.
Even so, I can’t resist sitting up to find out who is having so much fun. Today is just Tuesday, still 76 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds before Friday night happy hour (not that I’m counting). Maybe these merrymakers can give me a reason to lighten my mood before then.
But the chuckling ceases before I can figure out who they are. What the Liberty Bell? Am I so desperate for a happy sound that I am inventing merriment? I may have bitten off just a bit more of that therapeutic dark chocolate than WebMD recommends. I’m about to lie down when it begins again, and I realize: the source of the hilarity is not human.
A gaggle of Canadian geese, honk-honks like Shriners on tricycles. Leave it to the Canadians, no doubt chortling over the manic tweets of a certain American president, to carry on like old coots in broad daylight. And I say that with all due respect to the green-footed coots because one of them just walked by, giving me the stink eye. Cannot make this stuff up.”
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