A male cardinal been visiting the locust tree next to my bedroom window. I have not seen his mate, so I presume she is nesting somewhere nearby. But he is out and about, whistling and preening and cocking his scarlet head.

In Harmony I rarely saw cardinals, though we did have plenty of color in the summertime--purple finches, goldfinches, rose-breasted grosbeaks, an occasional indigo bunting. We did not have any locust trees, and I am learning to love this one beside the window--all feathery foliage and delicate sweep. The cardinal looks extremely handsome in its dappled shade.

Finally the heat has broken. The air is dry and cool. A small breeze rocks the locust tree. I hear a mockingbird singing. The people on the sidewalks are running or walking or dawdling. The cars are spinning down the highways. The dogs are rolling in the dew.

A tiny vase of yellow pansies sits on my kitchen table. I grew them myself, in my tiny deck garden. That is better than no harvest at all.