Cstbirds are loud, and vulgar, and not brightly colored, and I love them anyhow. It might have something to do with reading a great deal of Thurber in my youth, including the short story The Catbird Seat. Or not.
That is a bug in her beak. It is not a mistake.
Yesterday was flipping hot. So was today. The living room is cool. Our bedroom is cool. My workroom is a sauna. So I go in, and work for ten or fifteen minutes, and then retreat somewhere to let the sweat dry.
Barn swallows fly low across the tops of the grass in the fields, and swoop back and forth in front of your horse when you ride out. There is something thrilling about their speed and dedication, and something else hypnotic about their patterns. The horses are spooked the first couple times in the field, and then they get used to it.