Notes from the Garden #2

You can't go back. But you can return.

I’m in the garden, again.

The sun is glistening, birds singing—chirping, really, sending signals to one another. One being, “Skat, the killer cat is roaming about!” (Blaze, how I wish you could be friends with the robins, the mourning doves, finches, and cardinals. Ole Blue Jay does his job faithfully in keeping you at bay).

I pulled a few weeds upon gree…