2 Minutes. Go!

I tip my hat to the scrub jay; he's there every morning. Like the squirrels. Like the ravens. The mockingbirds don't want anything to do with me. And she won't give the other birds a moment's rest. The raven, the blue jays, or the squirrel. The mockingbird hates us all. But she makes some damn fine music. And musicians are fickle creatures. Trust me, I know. 

The osprey circles over the brackish water, and sometimes passes my apartment in transition. The white tailed kite loops lovely circles in the sky. I watch it sometimes, and it is easy to see how man made angels. Same way they made mermaids. A little romanticism and a lot of hope.

The Canada geese are loud and they have every right to be. We have ruined them. Like we ruined the pigeon. The geese honk their frustration to the heavens. I shoot a 'V' up with my fingers. A kind of apology. It's stupid, I know. I just want them to know that I know the way things should be. 

There are lizards and bugs and all kinds of skittery things in my backyard. A baby possum used to visit us. We tried to figure out what it liked to eat. It was cute and we loved him. He is old and ugly now. I still wish he would swing by.

The cats? Man, I have mixed feelings. I love cats. I love that they are fierce hunters. I just don't want them hunting in my yard. But still, I'm happy to see them. And if they killed a bird, I wouldn't be mad. Just sad. Which would be worse. I wouldn't judge. I too have killed a bird. I judge myself. 

I sit under the branches of the trees that shield my apartment from the sun. I can tell where we are in the moving tide by the smell. Low tide smells awful to some people. To me, it smells wholesome. Natural. It smells alive. My wife cares for succulents. We have a million in our yard. 

At any rate. That's what it's like in my backyard. I pass hours here, and the community means a lot to me. If any of this sounds intriguing, the price of admission is unsalted peanuts, still in the shell.