I was going to write :
Another morning has gone by.
Every and each morning is unique.
The similarities are apparent.
This morning, a bumble bee is flying around, exploring the flowers on the hanging baskets, one after the other, tasting the nectar.
These specific acts did not happen yesterday.
The bee was present, too.
Her movements, her route, were singular.
Although past the summer solstice.
Days are, already, becoming shorter.
Enough to notice.
Yannick cat was on my lap, earlier.
She enjoys days like today.
Mild, breezy, the sun just hiding behind a veil of detailed clouds.
The chirp of, mostly, sparrows colouring the morning.
As their flying to and from the feeders do, too.
In spite of our presence.
After an early morning, breakfast consumed.
The trees dancing with the wind.
The school girl has already gone.
She is very young.