Yesterday’s Phenology: 45 degrees; a perfect day for doing yard work, garage work, and walking the dog. Especially that last part. Gangs of crows are seen in the skies. (Technically I guess you’d call them a murder of crows, if you want to be persnickety about it.) What do you call a whole lot of sparrows? A host. A host of sparrows gathered around our bird feeder, and bickered through out the day. A bicker of sparrows. A new term is born. Anyway, 45 degrees, a scrap of snow, here and there on the grass, a whole lotta drippin going on.
Song of the day: Los Lobos, That Train Don’t Stop Here Anymore