Friday I was sitting out on our patio on a bench with a lichen-encrusted wooden seat that threatens to collapse at any moment. Somehow this never moves me to replace the bench–as a human being, I never think that a disaster will happen now. Surely, tomorrow. I continue reading, my camera at my side. I’ve found that when I come outside, all birds flee, but if I sit for awhile reading, they become accustomed–or perhaps bored with–my presence and go back to whatever they were doing–mainly flitting from branch to branch for no very good seeming reason, and eating. From the corner of my eye, I saw a female goldfinch alight on the Joe Pye weed, which has gone to seed, and I started to take her picture. There is a dignity to some birds, even when thistledown is hanging from their beak, that is so sweet that it makes me smile.
Same plant, different bird!
Lastly, I may be the only person to think so, but pachysandra is beautiful! Have a good week. Fran