Waiting

The pigeons who sit on our roof- there are some thirty of them- are dropping their feathers all over the back lawn. Pigeon-coloured feathers- black and white and grey.  Sunmmer is ending and they're going into their winter plumage- which is bulkier I suppose. And warmer. One of them lifts into the air above the feeder and a little fluffy white feather comes floating down.

I should collect them up. I could make art with them.

We're waiting for a baby to be born. Alice's third. We think it'll be a a Caesarian delivery or- as our son in law puts it- he'll be "evicted through the sun roof". 

He might have been born as long ago as the 16th. Had he come then he'd have been a Leo- but he's been hanging on and hanging on- and now he'll be a Virgo...

Bowie

 Our grandson was born just after five.

They're calling him Bowie