Summertime

This post is number 38 in a series.

I had seen one or two, but that’s no summer. This evening on the terrace, fresh from sticking stolen Bruggmansia cuttings in some soil, I sat back and watched a dozen or more swallows shrieking as they hawked beneath a mottled blue-gray sky. It’s odd how they wink in and out of view, impossible to keep your eye on just one. It would be fine if they took up residence under the overhang.

I think of swallows when people talk about bird brains. How much brain does it need to navigate with such precision through three dimensions, snatching insects from mid air?