A Skype chat waving at our son and grandson, four months old today.
Clara the mother peregrine nesting on City Hall has deemed her eyases old enough and warm enough now not to need her cuddling them in under her wings anymore and has taken to standing sentry through the dark hours on the ledge above them–but tonight she is tucked down in the nestbox for the night close in with her babies. It’s a comforting image.
And while we ate spinach lasagna and Ataulfo mangoes with strawberry puree and yogurt and then that angel food cake–oh and potato chips: it was a birthday, after all–
–with us out of sight, the squirrels pushed the Pam-sprayed foil they must have just ripped off the post right up to the back door. Thanks for the slip-n-slide, we’re all done with this.
Hey!