The Owl Has Flown

I'm in my writing room. Duh.

I just heard the finches outside my window. Last night I heard crows in the back yard, not that I love crows. And, yes, the squirrels are back, jumping on the trees--especially when they see me coming--running around my lawns, pulling up mouthfuls of grass. Nest building, no doubt. And, no, I don't much like squirrels either.

Clearly, the owl is gone, and the other animals know it. They are risking the return, coming back home.

I can't help how that sounds--too, too sweet, like I need to get a life. Tough.

I could go on about how this is really MY home. But why bother? It does not good.

And here's another perspective. I was standing on Jan's front step last week when that one squirrel came running over to her yard. He began doing all the little tricks and poking into things as I have seen him do many times in her absence.

I said, "He thinks this is his yard."

She said, "It is his yard." And she seemed quite happy about it.