From my bicycle on the way to work this steamy morning (already 80 degrees) I heard Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks coming from a black BMW convertible at a light, attended to by a youngish man who likely lives in that pastoral neighborhood where I once saw a red fox crossing the street in the morning; saw a mockingbird chasing a squirrel across the street, away from its young; smelled hot brakes and tires from the cars and trucks jammed up along the freeway where the bike path goes close; saw several turtles out catching the not-too-hot morning sun, with the martins close by, out catching breakfast for their young; saw and heard a sweet song sparrow sitting atop the tall grasses near the martin house, and a young snowy egret sitting in a nearby cottonwood; and smelled the wonderful smell of linden flowers in bloom, that fresh, light scent. Now to work- don’t know quite where to begin!