As I exit the front door I can see the three little Fly Catcher chicks sitting in their nest under the eaves, looking expectant and intelligent. Last week one fell out and was eaten by Big Cat. Every year the Fly Catcher builds it's nest here, alternating the side of the door.
My clematis' are blooming (these are the flowers, my grandfather, Gapper, liked to tape measure every morning). The yellow iris' I dug up out of the woods are in full bloom in front of my house in the sun. There was a house on this spot many years ago, so many that its gardens are now out in the woods, shaded by trees. Surely it is a miracle that after 60 or 70 years, the dormant iris' are blooming and propagating again.
Boofa and I meet a mucular white bull dog named "Handsome" at the dog park.
On the trail there is the vista of a new painting on the back wall of a warehouse. It is fantastic. There is the large face of an Irish Wolfhound or is it Chewbaca, or Big Foot with a benevolent smile and pink lips. The face is also a high abutment of land overlooking the sea. In the sea there is the Loch Ness Monster or another sea serpent and a gigantic fish. From the top of the Wolfhound's head there are waterfalls. One falls into the mouth of the big fish and the other drops down beside a mermaid.
A five mile walk and then home again where I see that the little chicks have found their wings and flown away.
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