I just came in from a pre-twilight hammock rest and meditation, carrying my light blanket and pillow. One of our resident hummers, Anna’s hummingbird, kept a vigil on one of the nearby high bare branches. A female northern oriole briefly joined the scene in a close-by tree, then did an amazing acrobatic flip off a terminal branch to catch some type of insect. She zigzagged off with her grating oriole chatter, nothing like the loud, clear oriole calls my wife and I heard from black-headed orioles in the game parks of India two months ago. It seems as if all the orioles have the harsher chatter notes, as well as their glorious song notes. The mood of the surrounding almond trees was mesmerizing, matching my own as we shared together the soft, slanting sun’s rays, the early evening coolness, the light on the eastern hill, and the comfort of growing old together. I taught some new notes to a mockingbird in the tree above. I watched my growing chickens forage down toward my call until scared away by jealous dog Melody, emerging from under my hammock with a threatening step.