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Fri., Apr. 23, 2021, 7:30AM
Gorgeous chilly morning. A bird (or something) thumped hard against our dining room window at maybe 6:30. I was up, in the kitchen, which I seldom am at that time of day. I went outside to look for an injured creature and enjoyed the crisp, fragrant air of springtime and, beneath my flip-flopped feet, the spongy give of dewless lawn. Found no bird, no bloody smear on window glass, but I did see golden clouds and budding, bobbing branches of a maple reflected in the window panes. I saw, alas, that my wooden window frames need new paint.
♦
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