Yesterday evening, waiting out the rain under the shelter of the old well,
there was a small flock of *Cedar Waxwings*. A *Bald Eagle* swooped down
onto the meadow by the birdstream to pick something (a snack?). A
*Kestrel*flew by overhead, riding out the storm. As I left, I heard an
old, familiar
song from the parking lot. The *Orchard Orioles* are back! (at least one of
them is back).
