I apologize, he said. I hope you know I really have no control over it.
I was so hopeful yesterday. The birds had come to the diner at the usual times, gathering for gossip, twittering in the bayberry bush between visits to the feeder. The squirrels were there, the older mama one I call White Ears and the one I think is her son, but I could be wrong about that. A trio... Sign in to see full entry.