Mulberries cover half my deck each morning, falling from a neighbor's tree; crumbs fallen from the night's buffet.

Sunday morning, sitting on a new IKEA deck chair, sipping black coffee, eating Jewish rye with red current jelly, I watched the local critters eat their own breakfasts; cardinals, mockingbirds, finches, and squirrels. A blue jay's approach unleashed many shrill tweets from a pair of cardinals nesting in a bush outside the back door. They flittered from branch to branch, posturing until the jay flew off, seemingly more bored than frightened. Later I saw the male cardinal tangle in mid-air with another one who ventured too close. Fluttering red streaks swirled crazily until they vanished behind the neighbor's roof.

Later, three squirrels came one by one to taste the sweet mulberries. In what must be a squirrel's ultimate indignity all that remained of one's tail was a frizzy nub. The other two mercilessly chased it around the branches of the tall old spruce that towers over the backyard. Watching them easily hop between the branches, I'm was overcome with the desire to join them, to be freed from my heavy constraints and flit between spruce limbs.