Tired tonight. A busy week, a busy day. My swim, yes. Sun, and outdoors, and the bluebird in the garden in the morning. And raking, first day. Little shoots of new growth in the moist earth under the leaves. Woodpeckers. Outside all morning with the special one. Digging for worms. Watching the tractor be loaded by friends who are borrowing it for an overnight. And Mrs. Mallard! Waddling around the pine grove in the leaves, looking for a quiet place for her nest. Today she did not find it, but I suspect she will, and we will never even know she’s there. But we will see Mr. Mallard nearby paddling the very edge of the Charles soon, keeping his eye on this territory. Tonight, after dark, the rain came, heavy rain. And then there was an excavator missing, a very particular one that I recently purchased. No other tractor or truck would do––this one must be found. And, very likely, found in the sand box. I put on my hat and jacket and shoes and grabbed my flashlight. He insisted on coming with me, with his flashlight and boots and jacket and no pants. But it wasn’t in the sandbox. And we were getting cold and wet. But no other toy would do. Fortunately, as we passed the garden where I had been raking and he had been digging for worms, we found just the exact excavator, among the many, that was needed tonight and so we will all sleep more soundly for this success.