pick of the crop

The tree leaves are as still as Henny stalking a bunny.

“Are we rehhhh-deeee?” Thalia tosses a life jacket into the back seat.

“One minute —” Nia’s fingers fly. “— finishing today’s love letter.”

A train horn sounds in the distance. “All a-paddle-board… Perfect conditions, cacophonous birdsong… Mother Nature will be disappointed if we ignore her gift.”

If a window of opportunity appears, don’t pull down the shade.
~ Tom Peters