The fuzzy blossom that I cycled through like fluttering rains a few days back now carpets the floor.
The geese are still out foraging among the picnickers. Looking for a hand out they mistake my camera for bread.
A yacht overturns and there’s a momentary scurry as other boats come to the rescue sails snapping in the stiff breeze of the lake.
Meanwhile families, lovers, crazy teenagers and grinning boys take to the water.
I amble down the inviting paths and enjoy a secret, dappled enclave with the swans.
Song Bird Songs 