Daily walk through petal drift

I'm at Sue's house, enjoying a daily walk (masked) with her in her neighborhood for the rest of the week, as her birthday is Saturday. We had planned to go down to the beach for the week. Instead we're staying at her house, improvising. 

It is strange to be out in the peak of springtime, walking on empty sidewalks between houses with spectacular gardens, but seeing almost no one. The few people we do see are also masked, and two women we passed actually whispered  hello, as if they feared they might be caught sneaking around doing something suspicious in those masks. 

We are all occupying unfamiliar head-space, odd creatures that we are, while Spring goes on doing its excessive, glorious, over-the-top performance, complete with bees, butterflies, and what seem to be unusally noisy birds. (Tivoli says the birds are not louder; they only seem so because we are making much less racket.)