This morning after brunch at the Rue, Nancy and I went to
Watchemocket Cove specifically to see the cygnets. When we arrived
they were swimming in procession behind their mother who had her
wings up like one of those Belleek swan candy dishes. After about 15
minutes they came in close to shore and I took a few pictures. Two
weeks closer to adulthood, they have a lot more white on the wings
and somewhat more white on the head. Now I actually do believe
they'll be white by midwinter. The one lone cygnet that doesn't seem
to be part of the brood is significantly more mature than the 6 that
follow the adults around. It must be from a different clutch, but
I've never seen it with an adult at all. Seven cygnets seems like so
few for the number of adults at the cove. There are probably 20 or
more adults. Are they too young to breed? Too old? Breeding somewhere
else?
After swan watching we went browsing at the Brown bookstore. We'd only just started browsing when we ran into Annette and then Liz. We all went out for coffee where I tried to convince Annette and Liz that Vladivostok was not covered in snow and ice in August. They both loved Dr. Zhivago, which I hated and fell asleep during, and were picturing me in a landscape from the movie. They were astonished to see pictures of the team in our bathing suits and snorkel gear. They wanted to hear all about my trip but everytime I started to answer a question they related it to something in Dr. Zhivago or something so I'm not sure what kind of an impression of Vladivostok I actually conveyed.
After coffee, Nancy and I went back to her place and listened to the end of the Red Sox/Yankees game. Red Sox won 6-5 in the bottom of the 9th. You'd think the game actually meant something! Hard to believe the regular season is over. The long dark cold baseball-less winter is very nearly here. The playoffs, the World Series, and that's it until spring. I don't feel ready for winter. I watched squirrels burying caches of nuts in dowtown Providence. I wish I could make caches of ballgames and birds and ice cream...
Friday afternoon while Elizabeth had her piano lesson, Andrea and I
walked/ran in Mrs. Reed's garden. Mrs. Reed has the kind of garden I
would have if I had the space: a huge wild expanse of weeds - native
plants - with narrow paths running through it. Purple asters and
goldenrod are the dominant flowers right now. Last spring it was
totally different. There are plants for every season. The paths are
just the right size for a five year old to find magical. The plants
are taller than Andrea. We explored every path about 5 times. The
orange cat that hangs out in Mrs. Reed's driveway followed us on the
paths. At one point he suddenly ran past Andrea and then between my
legs at top speed through the weeds, out onto the lawn, and under the
barn. I've never seen that cat move so fast. I can't get it to move
out of the way so I can park in the driveway, but it moves like
lightning with no visible threat in evidence. Go figure.
As I was reading The Berenstain Bears to Andrea on the porch, the cat reappeared and sat down at my feet. I swear it was listening to the story. It rubbed against my legs and purred. This is not a wild cat! He's way too friendly. Why it has chosen Mrs. Reed's house when Mrs. Reed clearly doesn't want it, doesn't feed it, doesn't let it in, is a mystery. The kids expect me to do something about it because I'm the big deal cat rescuer, but I really think this cat belongs to someone. Maybe I should suggest that Mrs. Reed put up posters around the neighborhood with a Polaroid of the cat and ask the owner to contact her. Animal Control is probably not the right choice in this case.