There was a people traffic jam down on Pine Valley, not far from some cool yarn-bombing-like yarn art.
Today Dizzy Dud Bud saw both out the front door and down the top of the steps to the basement. I suppose you can only protect the young for so long.
A big male cardinal just landed on the branch that's lately been all about the red finches. Red bird time, fer sure. Linda and David are talking to Brendon Next Door, as he's known in my phone. I talked to Susan earlier, after she brought over some masks to add to my burgeoning collection, and then to Tom as I headed out ("When are you going to take down your Bernie sign?" "I dunno--- I guess he might say I should now, but you had yours up before mine, so I feel like I should wait until you've had yours down." "Maybe I'll take mine down in November, right after Trump's re-election." "Or maybe we should leave 'em up a little longer, and, like, write on 'em, 'Told you so.'!"), and then Bert and Tom on the way back.
It's all of 60°F out there, but it's just PERFECT. Sun shinin', birds sangin', gentle breeze a-blowin', garbage cart plastic wheels rumblin' on the driveways....
Better ice my knees, and not stay in this chair too long. Stretching seems more important than ever.
Thank you for this day; thank you for this day. Thank you for this day.