Another year with you, sweet friend. My family still feels so far from the home of our dreams, a dream that is beginning to feel more elusive as time goes by. Yet here we are in the home of our reality, with all its imperfections and un-ideal arrangements. And you are here too. We are friends, you and I, both out of place, but making the best of it. A best of it that ain’t too shabby.
While I was watching, a hummingbird got all bossy with the hawk, divebombing in the way that they do. The hawk was utterly unimpressed. Compared to the crows, the hummer must be like a mosquito.
(I responded to your comments on Kirby Cove from last week, and am short on time this morning, so I hope you had a good weekend and I will see you Wednesday.)