Just as easy

It's just as easy, they say, to put on something nice as it is to put on sweats. I supposed they were right. On this dreariest of mornings, I can still hear the hawk sounding off in my backyard, after all. The red coat and black boots are for you, Mr. Bird-of-Prey. I'd give you a little mouse if I could.

It smells of stale cigars out here from my husband's last little scotch-soiree with his friend Bart. We call his friend "Bartholomew," although it's actually just plain "Bart." He doesn't seem to mind that we've changed his name to something more dignified...at least not enough to turn down the scotch and cigars.

My grandparents will be here Thursday afternoon from Iowa, and I should be getting the house prepared. But there are matching woodpeckers eating suet and a family of chickadees eating safflower seeds and a slow, sinking feeling oozing from the house out onto my back porch. You'll feel better if you just START, I tell myself. At least empty that ashtray full of Macanudo Robust stubs.

And Mary Lennox dug up the key today.