Sprung!

Every time I appear to think Spring has Sprung forth Summer, I am thwarted; hence being woken up by the gentle sound of rain this morning.

Nonetheless, yesterday's picnic in the park was one of surreptitious wine, sun, cards and boules, as I prefer to bocce. It strikes me often how proximity and exposure dictates some of the distinctions between Yankee and Albion English; in many cases, the former takes the Italian where we take the French - zucchini/courgette, bocce/boules, arugula/rocket (roquette, for its correct version) and so forth. Not sure it applies to eggplant, though - who the eff knows where you people got that.

But particularly exciting was the spotting of one of these handsome fellas, just pootling around in the bushes. As my friend pointed out, not a native bird - well, not this far north, as it is an Oriole, more often found around Baltimore. And, other than my friend Amy, possibly the prettiest thing from those parts.