My yard is full of birds. If I were less lazy, I would videotape or at least record some for you, because they are tweeting away like mad. Sitting on my front porch, I can count a dozen little birdies without trying hard -- some robins, some little black ones with pale yellow-white beaks (similar size to the robins). I'm not sure what they're all doing -- looking for worms? Could we have that many worms? They keep poking at the dirt and grass. One is building a nest above one of the columns on my porch; Lena spotted it yesterday. We have a bird feeder in the backyard, but none currently in the front -- that doesn't seem to deter them. Maybe they just like the abundance of flowers. Maybe the flowers make them happy. It's mid-50s right now, which turns out to be the perfect weather for sitting on the porch in sweatshirt and jeans with laptop, tea, and a peaceful doggie. For a while Ellie was intently watching the birds through the porch slats, but she has now put her head down for a well-deserved rest. All that watching is tiring! In addition to the birds, there are all the neighbors who pass by on the their way to the train -- many walking fast, with purpose. But some have the time to notice the flowers, to smile, to stop at the little library and peer inside. Yesterday I was working on the porch and saw someone open the library door and walk away with a book; I don't think she even noticed me on the porch. Sometimes people do look up, wave, smile, even chat a bit. The children are off at school, Kevin is peacefully sleeping upstairs, my house is clean. In two hours, I'll be on campus, teaching a class on short stories by Indrapramit Das and Saladin Ahmed, followed by a class on Keri Hulme's _The Bone People_. This afternoon, I'll garden, write, or make art. Possibly all three. I know trouble will come again -- it always does. But sometimes you just want to freeze a perfect moment and live in it. This is exactly the life I always wanted.