This weekend, though, when I settled in for some meditative breathing, my nostrils were assailed by something more than good old oxygen mixed with salt air. This air was . . . um, tangy? musky, decidedly fishy in that way that causes you to abandon your regular fishmonger and look for someone who cleaned his tanks more regularly. . . . It "ponged" as my Yorkshire rellies used to say!
But here's another piece on the concrete pavers just below. . .
And I thought of the mink that startled me the day before, darting through the garden as I wandered with my camera. Perhaps the same one Pater evicted from the attic crawlspace spring before last, because our mink friend had been settling in to use that space as a larder, perhaps even (horrors!) a nursery.
Were we being served notice that this battle for real estate isn't over yet?
Not so bad, right?