What else is happening is that my oak tree is getting its new leaves already. A late winter cold spell could devastate them, and leave my back yard with diminished shade all summer. So far the walnut tree is showing more sense. Its bare twigs sport nothing but those randy birds. Beyond my back fence a couple of other oaks are still clinging to a good-sized collection of deal leaves from last year. It makes for an odd scene, with my spring-besotted tree turning pale green while the others are still dowdy in autumnal brown.
My shopping is done for the week, and I was delighted to find an unexpected bargain on an excellent beer. There was also a bargain on donuts, but as I could only afford one of these bargains I chose the beer. The donuts would have gone stale soon, but that beer will be fresh for weeks. The bargain donuts came in packages of fourteen, anyway, and I'd have made myself sick trying to down them all before they became so stale as to be inedible (which is about three days for donuts.) I'll surely think about them while drinking my beer, though.
The Old Poets of China
by Mary Oliver
Wherever I am, the world comes after me.
It offers me its busyness. It does not believe
that I do not want it. Now I understand
why the old poets of China went so far and high
into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.