Two good things about this particular Tuesday evening in (very early) spring

1. The male blackbird on the roof ridge opposite my garret room window. His yellow-orange beak has a dull luminosity in the dusk, and he's singing his little heart out: that fluting, fluid, plangent song echoing through clear air, and which sounds like a summer evening. It convinces me that spring can't be that far away. I guess he's singing variations on "you looking at my bird?" and "get off my manor" -- but I'll let that ride, and hang on to my romantic image (you can never have too many of those)


2. Lying in a hot bath, reading a book, after a chilly, breezy ride home. Hearing the creme bath's bubbles rustling and popping as the walls of their tiny spheres dissolve into water and air. Thasssss ressssssssfull...