Aki and I have stumbled into a violent raven argument. Two of the large black birds face each other on a high spruce limb, open beaks just inches apart. Without pausing for air, they launch high volume caws into each other’s face. I think mom and dad are having a fight. Out on the beach a diminutive crow sulks along the water line. I have to tell my imagination that this is not the adopted child of the sparring ravens.
The sun makes a brief appearance when Aki and I stumble on a hedge of Sitka Roses stirring in the onshore breeze. A chubby bumblebee rattles around inside one of the magenta blossoms. The bee takes off after I snap a picture and flies a wandering course above the hedge, almost but never settling on another blossom. Again my imagination wants to lead me astray; wants me to hear the bee muttering to himself, “Been there, been there, been there, maybe here, no, been there.”