Monday 8:15 am. As the dogs & I leave the shade of our driveway, warmth is already beginning to press down from a clear sunlit sky. We turn south on the gravel at 57th. There are several small sparrows on telephone wires above, one with a rusty orange breast.

Just after we cross Simpson, old dried thorny blackberry canes have been pruned and left along the road. I gingerly attempt to move them aside. Peering across the hedge at the house there, it seems to be a house stubbornly holding the earth amidst a tumbling sea of green growth. The hazelnut tree alongside the house presses against it, and looks like it'd send it's branches into the window if it could. Grape vines growing on an arbor which totally hide the back door, have overwhelmed the arbor and are growing up gaily onto the roof of the house. Fennel (or is it anise?) is pressing through the fence next to me. I break off a few seeds and rub them between my fingers for the lovely scent. Then I hear a "cheet-cheety-cheet." Looking across the fence, first I see three--they are little finches--a grey brown color with tiny tufts of creamy white right above their wings. They are busily pecking at the yellow-green fennel seeds, and it's not just three, but many more, as there's an ample number of the plants. I suddenly feel gratefull to the owners for letting this yard be so overgrown. Where 57th turns to Jessup, there is a battle going on between grape and blackberry vines for control of a laurel hedge. The blackberries rush up from below, "me, me, me" and the grapes cascade down from above, "me, me, me."

Our loop today takes us across Killingsworth Street, and up past the Providence ElderPlace at 57th and Alberta. We circle back down on 60th, which is an awfully busy street for the dogs. But there on the corner of 60th and Sumner is an old Ailanthus tree with a very large gnarly growth proturding from the trunk. It's been decorated with headscarf, blonde fringe, eyes, nostrils and mouth creating a dragon/lady appearance. We cross and walk back along Sumner. Where Sumner reaches 57th three young lads are strolling along.

"Can we pet the dogs?" comes the familiar call. I make my usual explanations about Tiger being friendly and Zeno a little shy, as they cluster around. They make a winning threesome, one with milk chocolate brown skin, curly black hair and freckles on his cheeks, one very lean with pale skin and a shock of almost black hair, and a shorter one, shiny black hair and ruddy brown skin, and a rounded body. I ask if they are enjoying the last of summer. Two yes, one no. Why not, I ask the lone dissenter. Because it's almost over. I ask him not to let anticipation ruin these last days. They tell me they're at Rigler, and that it's a K-8th school, so the two of them who are going to 6th grade next year won't have to change schools. (Many children transfer to middle school at 6th grade.) I tell them they're lucky, as they all attend there.

Walking on home, we hug the shady areas, as the day is warming up. We are glad to find the quiet driveway, where bluejays are squawking a welcome. A blackberry vine reaching over from my neighbor's vibernum plant reminds me of gardening I must tend.