Everett from his homework spot at the kitchen table early last night:
"Mom! What the hell is that sound?"

Moi, cocking an ear and scurrying to an open, screened window:
"Cranes. Sandhill cranes."

A tiny flock of about a dozen flying low (for cranes, that is) over our roof.

The mallard ducks have returned, too.

***

Frogs are starting to croak, one at a time, here and there. In days there will be a symphony. Unless ... unless it snows. The forecast for the weekend is for "the storm of the decade" or somesuch thing. Just in time for my trip to Saskatoon with Emil so he can finally get to the Brooks and Dunn concert and SHUT UP ABOUT IT. But this morning the sun is shining and it's hard to believe a foot of snow is about to drop on the newly uncovered dry grass.

These two photos were taken within one minute of each other, the camera facing north for the first, and west for the second. I had the loveliest walk. There is no way that heaven can be better than this.

Emil has been looking forward to this concert, and "I just can't wait"-ing, since Christmas when his dad bought him three tickets; one for him and two for his companions, whoever would take him.

On the weekend Emil began to worry aloud that maybe he'd get sick and not be able to go. The next thing we knew (and it was no surprise), he had a stuffed-up nose and a slight cough. I advised him to stay home and rest till he felt normal again. By Wednesday he was better but stayed home yesterday to be on the safe side; sometimes going to school and work tires him out so that a cold gets worse, whether it is coming or going.

So he felt good enough to go to the concert, but his companion, Mrs. Basky, was not at her usual post at the Co-op checkout counter when I went in on Wednesday. Then he began to worry about her. What if she was sick and couldn't go— what then?

I might have to take you myself, I said.
But I don't want to go with you, replied the little bugger. I just won't go then.
Tough shit, said I. You're going if I have to drag you there. I have not listened to this constant yapping about it for the past three-and-a-half months for nothing.

When I got home from town yesterday and reported that Mrs Basky was well and healthy, he was relieved. But then, since we are meeting her and her husband in the city so the three of them can go out for a pre-concert supper, Emil began to worry about me. "What if you aren't feeling good tomorrow, how will I get to Saskatoon then?" he wanted to know.

Lordy be.

"I'm fine. Healthy as a horse. Don't worry. I will get you there. Now please QUIT WORRYING!"
It's enough to make me sick.

So help me god, Gord, if after this concert he carries on the same way till the James Taylor show in July — and something tells me he will — you are going straight to the top of my bad books. I never thought I'd say this, but your generosity (none of these tickets are cheap, folks) is driving me crazy.