Raindrops glisten in the grass. A very small shower hits me, and I look up to see a pigeon staring down from the edge of the roof.
Cold drizzle. The germ of a sneeze takes up residence in my left nostril. I watch the dog watching a pigeon watching a sparrow eating seeds.
During a break in the rain, flies find the dog’s latest offerings. A damp-looking mouse creeps along the base of the wall.
Drizzle. From the street, the harsh note of a concrete saw chewing through the sidewalk. The small hydrangea keeps turning more deeply red.
Wind-blown mizzle. Clank and rattle at the end of the block as workers disassemble scaffolding, safety-green coats against the gray clouds.
Breezy and cool with slowly fading sunlight. I hear but don’t see the goldfinches. A smoker’s hacking cough.
Five finches methodically pulling thistle seeds through tiny holes like a sewing machine with five needles.
Im so engrossed in watching goldfinches squabble at the tube feeder, I don’t notice that the sun’s come out until they all fly off.
How can it be this cold when the rose bush is still covered in buds? A helicopter flies just over the rooftops.
Warm in the sun, cold in the shade. A robin and a dunnock forage under the bird feeders, hopping and peering like diviners at the rain-darkened earth.