a San Marcos sparrow

The early afternoon warmed by the mid-March sun. Think balmy, think of how that word makes you feel. The inland day kissed by an on-shore sea breeze, it’s 10-mile sojourn from the coast relevant. Important. Successful.

I saw a sparrow fly from the building across the way into a small pine close by ours. Thirty feet, hurled forward, bobbing, its small wings, those exactly the right size. I opened the slider and stepped out into the day, and it was balmy. I walked to and leaned against the exterior patio wall, and just there – then – I saw a sparrow flit across the drive. From over there to over here. Into a green pine – so green in this southern California milieu. Sweet nature.

The sparrow was brown. You know how sparrows are.

Plus – gray day, dumbfounded Jay, gets to play, here along the way.