Honk if you’re huffy

Each morning is a bit colder than the previous. Five degrees yesterday, four today. The sun lumbers up into a clear morning sky, scaring off a light mist that had been loitering over the distant strawberry field and honestly getting just a bit too comfortable with itself. A group of geese has congregated there. “It’s a cold morning,” one observes. “I can see my breath,” says another. This causes several of them to make huh-huh noises so they could see their breath, too. “Is it time to go?” “Not yet, not yet.” They continue on like that for a while, it’s the way geese are. Shuffling, plucking, talking about the weather. It gets quiet for a bit, and then a younger one says “Maybe we could stay this year.” “What?” in chorus. A wave of murmuring follows. “Well, it’s a lot of work, flying south every year. Maybe we stay this year. See what it’s like,” he defended. There was another brief silence, and then a “We’d need toques.” This came from the back. “And scarves!” From the left…