By the Lake Where Hardly Anyone Goes

Greeted by a territorial goose (is that redundant?). Feed it tortilla chips left over from my Chipotle's dinner last night. Sit in the somewhat trashed gazebo. Small fish flitting near the sunlit surface. Cool breeze. Watching a fisher bird dive and snag a bug? A small fish? Watching the fisher bird nibble up its wriggly treat. Goose swims up to the gazebo. Feed it some more tortilla chips. Spot a turtle sunning itself on a log about twenty yards away. Birds chirping. Faint aroma of honeysuckle. Goose swims over by the turtle. Turtle swims away. Goose starts hollering rather urgently. Thought maybe goose was calling for friends. Later on, turns out goose was calling for mate. Goose and mate glide along the water, away from me, making a swimming sandwich of their four fuzzy taupe goslings. Train: CSX, Hamburg Sud, Schneider, stackers. FedEx Ground. Someone's very important package is in there. Where is it going? Finishing up The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Good read, but not my favorite all-time novel. People have dreams, some realistic, some fantastic, some they live out. People have those dreams on afternoons like this.