A rainy Sunday morning

It's a rainy Sunday morning. The boy has all kinds of allotria in his head. The father suggests to make a wooden bead necklace with him after breakfast, but before that he wants to take a few steps outside. Maybe by the lake. Exercise and fresh air is what the boy needs at least twice a day. The father suggests taking the binoculars with him. They don't take the usual route directly across the railway crossing. First towards the kindergarten and then across the overpass. This way they come directly to the small harbour behind the hospital, where the grandmother has already seen grey heron. It is drizzling. On the small harbour wall, not even ten steps long they stand and look at the water. Like well-placed dots, single raindrops fall onto the almost flat surface of the water. Two swans come closer. They hope for bread. But the two strollers do not want to give the water birds diarrhoea. So it remains with algae and bread. The beading water drops shine like pearls on the wet plumage. Especially with the three coots. The young are only really black at the front, at the back the feathers still seem to be slightly curled with a slight brown tinge. Neither chick nor adult. Lonely a green-headed mallard passes by. In the binoculars the two swans together have hardly any space. A single great crested grebe seems to be here as well. He appears in the distance and - before he is caught with binoculars - disappears again. First down to the sea, then towards the other shore, up to the sea, next to the boats at the buoys. The father never succeeds in taking a closer look at this animal. Then it is gone. For good. Later in the garden the first sunrays break through the clouds. Here again: large water pearls lie on selected leaves. If you lightly touch one of the leaves, the drops slip off and fall plop to the ground.