It is 75 degrees and sunny, just a few thready cirrus clouds dappled over the sky. I am writing this from my seat under a mimosa tree (MIMOSA TREE LINK), aka Dinosaur Tree, since it looks so very Paleo.
All morning I’ve been out here, listening to the mockingbird perched above me singing every song she knows, a messy remix of finches and warblers and sparrows, restless and joyful. Or is she just restless? I always feel a little sorry for the mockingbirds — they’re sort of shunned by the other birds; they’re sort of loners. Maybe because they steal music.
Am again trying to learn crochet by making — what else — a zig-zag blanket. They’re tremendously 70’s but they’re comforting, too … and mine will be made up from a muted range of natural wool shades.
We shall see.