I scurried out the door to a morning blessed with sunshine and a cloudless sky. At 55 degrees, it was feeling rather Fall-ish and I sure wasn’t warm in my sweatshirt cardigan. Yesterday’s all-day rain had soaked into the mulch and it was dark brown and smelled like fresh cedar and the grass was still heavy with dew. As I walked down the driveway, the peevish robin with the big-time attitude was wrestling with a worm as he struggled to wrest it from the soggy ground. I watched him for a minute and soon he was successful and the worm was wiggling precariously from the tip of his beak. Mr. Robin saw me and dropped his prize, gave me his usual steely stare and started chattering at me. I am sure he was saying “well, she tore down my nest countless times, so just let her mess with my worm now” … I shot him back an equally icy glare and told that sour puss I’d already had my oatmeal hours ago and his breakfast did not interest me in the least. He picked up his worm and hopped away from me as fast as his two legs could carry him. As I continued on my trek to Council Point Park, the effects of yesterday’s rain were evident with large pools of water everywhere. Sparrows had congregated and were both sipping from and bathing in the big puddles in the street. I thought it was rather a brisk morning for a soak, but they were nonetheless enjoying this unexpected and rather unconventional birdbath, flipping and flapping their wings in the water. When I arrived at the Park, the sun was strong and in my eyes and it momentarily blinded me as I started on the perimeter path. I heard the usual cacophony of birdsong from the hidden areas of bushes or high nests in the trees and it was a welcome melody on this pretty morn. As I ambled along, finally the sun shifted out of my direct path, and I could see a large group of geese grazing in the baseball diamond. For once they were quiet as they contentedly stood in place, their long necks stretched to the ground to nibble the weeds and tall blades of grass. I was busy watching them from afar when a goldfinch zipped right past me and alighted on a nearby tree branch, its beautiful bright yellow and black plumage easily identifying its presence in a tall plum tree. I wished I had brought some bread or some treat to entice it to come closer or down to the ground so perhaps I could take its picture, but it flitted from branch to branch disappearing from sight. By chance I saw him another time when I had the camera in my hand and I snapped his picture for this blog post. My neighbor, Marge, fills a feeder with thistle seeds which are goldfinch magnets. From her door wall or kitchen window, she is able to watch these fine-looking goldfinches as they gather on her deck awaiting their turn at the feeder. I grew sunflowers a few years ago, hoping to lure these perky beauties to my garden, but the head of the largest sunflower, laden with seeds, broke off and toppled to the ground. The squirrels were in their glory but I doubt they shared much of their booty with the bevy of finches who were lingering nearby. As I moved along the perimeter path, once again I took note that the ducks were not present and the squirrels were similarly mysteriously MIA. On the north loop of the trail, the grass was especially long and there was red and white clover all over. As I walked, occasionally I detected a slight movement in the overgrown grass and clover, and much to my delight, I noticed baby bunnies contently munching on the clover, and enjoying the sweet nectar of this pretty weed. I know when I was young, my friends and I would pull the red or purple clover blossoms from the meadow and pluck out the inside petals to sip the sweet nectar. The grassy areas were so plentiful with clover that often the bunnies’ tall ears, shell-pink and translucent in the strong morning sun, were all that I saw above the clover … they usually saw me before I saw them and the bunnies would bolt for cover while I was still several yards away. I logged four miles this morning while enjoying the bliss of the birds and bunnies and a wee bit of peace and tranquility on the fly.