They are back, the male red-winged blackbirds. I saw one lone male last week, in the cattails by a pond in the park, and this morning heard hundreds of them. It seems odd because it feels as if we’ve had no winter this year, no major snow, only a few days of frigid temperatures. Nonetheless, Ishmael loves to sleep near the fire Dennis builds to break the chill, he gets absolutely stove-drunk. And winter clothes- the long underwear, sweaters, scarves- I am not ready yet to put them away again. Tomorrow they say will by almost 80 degrees. The wildflowers will be up soon at the arboretum, perhaps we will go on Sunday to see.