I don’t know what is “normal” for newlyweds, but I doubt that trucking one forklift, 200 hives of bees and a Lab/Golden Retriever puppy from Palo Cedro, California, to near Babb, Montana, Bride in the 1 ton truck, Groom in the 2 ton truck, is something your “average” newlyweds do.  Thirteen hundred miles and forty-eight hours later, Bride, Groom, Puppy, Bees, Trucks, and Forklift are all safely home.

Upon arrival to Hillhouse, Honeydew’s sharp eyes immediately noted that our loons are back … I got a bit teary over his announcement, and ran to unpack my camera.  Loons mate for life, and during our wedding ceremony, one flew over head and called out brilliantly.  I do not find this coincidental, but deeply symbolic.

Aren’t they beautiful?

Floating about on Gretchen’s Mirror.

Thankfully, the loons didn’t seem to mind Roy Rogers making himself at home … and checking out his new home.  He immediately got into the Mirror, and then wrestled with the lawn for quite a while as he dried off.

One loon lover took a big ole spring stretch that Honeydew captured with the camera:

I love to see their spots.

I wish I could describe the call a loon makes … I’ve heard it described as the sound of wilderness, and I agree.  But there is something silver in the sound too, something that shimmers down your spine and holds a tete-a-tete with your heart, telling it that there is greater love than even Shakespeare wrote about, that some love is too magnificent for human language.

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