Hawk, Again

He was back again this afternoon in a great shrieking commotion, but no one else was involved, just the hawk, screaming his heart out up on the telephone pole.

The fog is in every morning now. It cleared to a lovely warm day, spent puttering in the garden with D, our capable and energetic helper. I enjoy the boldness she has with plants—move this one, trim that one back, dig here, divide there. It would take me hours to make such decisions. I’m better at dead-heading and weeding—tasks with clear parameters.