There was an overcast day, and now a partly cloudy night. This pattern might last for a while. It's better than the other way around. Sunny days build more heat, and cloudy nights hold it in. Even without clear sky, the day was surprisingly balmy. The small birds (sparrows of some sort, I believe) were once again out in vast numbers. If they didn't fly, had fur instead of feathers, had long, skinny tails, and squeaked instead of chirping, people would consider them pests and set traps for them. Lucky for them that they're cute.
The cherry tree is not dead. It is finally putting out a few blossoms, but very few. I might remember to start a new tree this year, by sticking a few seeds into pots. I have intended to do this for several years now, but keep forgetting. I have no doubt that the birds have dropped a few seeds here and there each year, but the resultant treelets have grown among weeds and lawn grass and, unrecognizable, have probably been mowed down or plucked out while yet tiny. Anything that grows from profligate nature's prolific seeds is prone to disaster. Oh, look at the unintentional alliteration.
It's still a bit warm for Sluggo, so I'd better let him nap before he has a fit.