Monday, April 20/2020

Mid twenties and light breeze.

We get morning sun and afternoon shade, for which we may be grateful later in the spring. Between the living quarters and the road there is a small ivied courtyard. At night we can lock the outer door, which is only garage style metal and could do with some paint. Even less prepossessing than the entries to many Italian houses that seem to have no virtues at all from the street - until a door opens and the passerby has a brief glimpse of charming inner courtyard. Ours stays open during the day so we can sit on the steps with coffee or a drink, but there is always the option of inner shade - or sun. The roof is open but the walls are about twenty-five feet high.

Big fuss amongst the coal tits about supper time. J goes to investigate. A cat walking on the roof tiles opposite, the same tiles that form apartments for at least two nesting couples. Birds agitated and noisy. The cat leaves, whether intimidated or indifferent, and birds retire to sit on a nearby wire. Silence returns. The mini dramas of lockdown. Death always a risk in their world as well.