I am sitting in my livingroom, enjoying a morning now early afternoon off from Cursive, and am listening to an owl hoot close to my windows. The soft hoot of an owl always reminds me of summers in St. James, Long Island where we had a cottage for three months out of the year. I want to stick my head out the window and see where the owl is sitting. Though it could be a person blowing on an owl bird call (we had them two Christmas's ago) but the cadence of the hoot is too natural sounding.
Friday, March 20, 2009
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