When I opened the doors to the gardens this morning, to let the cat out and gather the newspapers, the temperature outside was not yet 70 degrees. For the first time since last May, I left those doors wide open. And walked out to the screen porch with a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels to wipe the dust off surfaces, preparing to spend the twilight hours on the porch. ES watered the potted plants and I pulled weeds and errant plants from between the flagstones. There are birds, doves, blue jays, grackles, sweeping through the trees today, diving to the edge of the bird bath to drink and bathe a wing. All the birds are making bird sounds as they light on branch after branch. Perhaps they are all the young birds, born last spring, who've lived through the drought and heat of this summer. Perhaps they are as pleased about this day as I am.