We saw a spotted fawn today, skipping across the road on its merry little way. He did not see Emily and me, quietly fishing and reading in shady splendor created by two spring-leafed cottonwood trees.
Neither moved nor sighed, doing so would scare her away, upsetting this peaceful gift of nature.
Memories of how the Pingree boys from my childhood, who lived in Beggar's Hollow, used to call fawns 'lambs,' caused suppressed laughter.
My boyhood is long gone, it's true, but I suppose that left alone those deer and Pingrees are still happily breeding like jackrabbits in those bushes.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 9:02am on Nov 05, 2024 via server WEBX1.