Meanwhile the ground is coated with orange leaves, and the juncos are hopping merrily through them. Well, it looks merry from in here, where I have a fuzzy bathrobe and central heating and hot tea. The juncos are probably muttering through clenched beaks about how it's bloody cold and they're freezing their ass-feathers off and goddamnit why can't she put up a bloody ground feeder or something, make life easier for everybody, no more rooting through leaves, what do they look like, towhees? Frickin' humans standing there ogling woodpeckers. Get a job, hippie!
A whole horde of small children have descended for the weekend owing to a birthday party in the apartment up the hall (and by horde, I mean at least seven or eight.) I didn't mind them being rowdy fairly late--my neighbors are generally very quiet, their children very well behaved, and if they want to cut loose for a birthday now and again, knock yourselves out, childhood comes but once. Did give me a bit of a start to discover that they're still here this morning, roaming the grassy strip right behind my apartment. Possibly should put on something other than bathrobe. Or close blinds. (No, if the blinds are closed, I can't see woodpeckers.) Right. Presentable clothing. No more nude trips from bed to bathroom for a couple of days. Must remember these things. Bugger.