There was that Whip-Poor-Will singing outside at dusk the other night. And there were those Monarchs turning circles in the front yard among the blooming wonders in the yard yesterday.
And a few days ago, there were the Stag Beetle grubs slowly turning in the compose pile as I buried the kitchen scraps. They’ve returned this year. I didn’t tell you about them? Just as well I suppose, for I suspect some of you might not rate squirming grubs up there with butterfly vortices or evening bird song.
But certainly ranking up there is what the Fair and Industrious Trudy spied leaving our yard the other morning. She saw a Roadrunner, dissatisfied perhaps with the dry creek that runs along a greenbelt a few blocks from here. It had evidently heard of the water that we set out. Word gets around, it seems.
Trudy spied the Roadrunner, and then the Roadrunner sped away. Can’t you just hear it?