Oh, you’ll find it. This is a telephoto shot, but I could hear him (?) squawking all the way across the road. It was all of a piece: a welcome end to Thursday night’s rain, the light about to break through low-hanging clouds, the raven calling the sun.
Just a couple hundred feet above us, light snow. Here a steady drip and drizzle until after midnight. The tall elm trees that shade the house collect the water into giant drops that plonk against the skylight. It’s a fine one, too, that skylight, custom-built fifty years ago with a great big slab of heavy plate glass. I’ve been here for more than ten years and it’s never leaked. Lord, it’s nice when something just works.
Calling the sun seems to, at least if you’re a raven in the morning.