Daddy Gets Sick

He climbs in bed,
And covers his head
In order to recoup.

He drinks lots of water
And calls for his daughter
To bring him chicken soup.

This poem is called "When the Doctor Gets Sick," but it's pretty close to what Mark has done today. Bummer. We hate it when daddy gets sick.

Ah, but all is well with me, for I've just seen my first hummingbird of the season. I joked with my friends at the Wild Bird store that my hummingbird feeders are my mimosa tree and red impatiens.

This hummingbird was at the window trying to figure out what a hot pink post-it note was doing there. I'll have to explain to him it's because a stupid female Summer Tanager thought she wanted to live in my house and kept flying at the window, so I put up bright papers on my window in order to let her know it wasn't a path.

And just one note about bird watching. The habit is addicting. I wrote about the suet feeder I gave my father for his birthday, and just in the past couple of days my mother went and bought a regular feeder for the other side of their deck. She's hooked.