Hummingbirds, dozens of them, speeding up to the feeder, chasing each other away from dinner, bossing me into mixing up more snacks, dancing in place, swinging back and forth on their giant U-shaped raceways.
Fleas on the poodle. Even chemicals can't conquer them. This week I broke down and vacuumed her. I have no idea if that helped, but she enjoyed it.
Road trips with James. He drank a lot of coffee and made personal comments about other people's cars and told me to stop worrying that he was going to get into an accident and was doted upon by his grandparents and ate everything he was served and played Scrabble with good cheer, even though he doesn't like Scrabble.
Heat and dryness. My yard is like your yard.
The line breaks on the sign in downtown Milo, Maine: