As the sun sets, a fiery ball in this western sky, pink and purple above, the week has slowed to close, and birds are chirping a cacophony of minstrel sonnets. One cannot help but be grateful, with a purring cat by my side. Both of our weekends have been filled with risk and adventure and fun, out in the world, but we always yearn to come back to our comfortable cozy place.
My bedroom feels like I am living in a treehouse this time of year, with the windows open, I am at one with the leaves and branches of the apple tree outside my windows. The cardinal who comes every day searching for his mate, which I think my cat may have killed, and the robins, fat and cheerful, yet cautious and sensitive . Birds are much like feral cats in their abilities to sense danger, only they have wings.
Oh to have wings!