A morning rinsed and spun-dry, cleansed by thunderstorms in the night and a cool breeze in the morning. Whereas yesterday was about humidity and heavy possibility, today is quick on its feet, ready to move into the month, into this strange new almost-summer that is upon us.

In the garden, the irises are prepping for their appearance, narrow buds on the Siberian ones and plump buds on the others. The inside birds are singing in the brightness, having spent some of yesterday with heads tucked and wings folded. They are like little barometers. You can almost mark the weather by them, so tied are they to the world outside.

As for the mammals in the house, they have slept late, as they are wont to do these days.


(I snapped this photo about 10 days ago, when the dogwood and azaleas were still in their prime.)