A Sunny Heath Day

Yesterday was mostly quite joyful, if a little sweaty. I spent the morning trimming the shrubbery around our patio. The bushes need to be knocked back every month or two in summer or they'll swallow the patio like the Yucatan jungle swallows Mayan ruins.

Then I went for a walk on Hampstead Heath, taking my new AirPods so I could catch up on my podcast episodes along the way. The fireweed is mostly spent by this time of the year (above).

And the pond on Sandy Heath is once again paved with green duckweed.

I walked a route that I often walked with Olga, and although I missed her as I always do when I walk on the Heath, this time I could also look forward to having another dog to bring with me. Dave and I have applied for one through the animal rescue organization where we got Olga all those years ago -- we'll see if we get her. We're waiting to hear back.

One of the best things about walking like this is just letting my mind wander. My dad used to call it "cycling his mind," and he'd do it sitting at the breakfast bar in his house, often with the television on. I prefer to cycle my mind while on my feet.

I walked all the way up to the northern part of Hampstead Heath Extension, and then back through Golders Hill Park, where I stopped for a quick coffee. The park was bustling, especially the line for ice cream.

This has been a banner year for Jersey tiger moths. I've seen several of them, including three just yesterday. One was in our house, and another was lying on a path on the Heath with damaged wings. I lifted it up onto some ivy but sadly, although its body appeared fine, it will probably die. I wonder what happened to it? Bird? Dog?

I captured the one in our house and set it free outside.

The pigeons are roosting in this willow in the middle of the pond at Golders Hill Park. I guess it's an ideal spot for birds, surrounded by a moat and thus safe from predators. I like the way that bird at top left was zooming in for a landing just as I snapped the picture.

I came home and put on some music while Dave made pasta and meatballs in the kitchen. He used a bag of pasta he brought back from Amalfi, a brand recommended by our guide as authentic. It tasted pretty much like most pasta, we thought, but that doesn't mean it wasn't good.

Anyway, while he was cooking, some songs by Bobbie Gentry came across my iTunes, and I wondered what had ever become of her. Turns out she's now 83 years old and retired, and good for her. Most people know her from "Ode to Billie Joe," her gothic song about mysterious events on the Tallahatchie Bridge, which made her a star in the late '60s and was even turned into a movie starring Robby Benson. But she actually wrote a lot of excellent songs.

While sipping my martini in the golden light of evening, I was struck by the beauty of this song (once past the weird violin opening). Give it a listen. Maybe it will strike you too. And if so, you can follow it up with this one and this one.