It feels like the end of summer even though it is mid-August and I think that is because the Amaryllis belladonnas – pink ladies – are blooming ahead of time (they used to bloom in mid-September). Still, it has been a lovely summer here on the east side of the Santa Cruz Mountains with clear skies and the temp hovering about 80°F, plus or minus – today, the 15-day projection for max temperature is 84° 77°, 77°, 77°, 78°, 75°, 74°, 75°, 77°, and 77° – glorious except that it is dry, too dry.

A couple of days ago, we were having a cocktail at the end of the day, sitting on our deck, watching the quail and doves, and a couple of chickadees. They were eating some seed I’d thrown on the ground when something startled them and they all took off at once with a thrashing of wings. As my eyes followed the flock of mixed birds heading up and to my right, something streaked down and to the left. Fast! I bearly caught the flash of striped feathers as it banked hard right, rolling on its side like a fighter plane flying down Star Wars Canyon. 

Then, stillness. The silence broken only by a chattering that sounded somewhat like a squirrel.  

  A couple of minutes later a harrier hawk casually flew over to us, landed on the back of a chair, and started complaining – we think complaining about Precious Mae but it is hard to tell with us not speaking hawk – and then he/she/or it flew up to the edge of the roof to complain some more. Michele caught it on her phone.