It was inevitable. Though we kept procrastinating, putting it off, reluctant to disappoint our constant visitors. The tourists just passing through on their reverse migration like the flocks of juncos and white-crowned sparrows have gone. The goldfinches, also returning, are here to stay. Our regulars, the redpolls, cardinals, chickadees don't really need us anymore, but we've decided to maintain the bird feeder regardless, through the summer months.

It's the squirrels that will be disappointed. In fact, we've already seen desolate little squirrels looking about with confusion, wondering where all the seeds and nuts have made off to; life can be so unfair at times, we know.

I felt more than a little forlorn myself, last night, when I watched as the big old raccoon that alternated with the younger, smaller one to show up intermittently for snacks, looked about for the treats they've found at our porch, only to discover none were to be had. He must have been at the backyard composter, where a new pail had been emptied early in the day, so he hadn't been entirely deprived.

We do feel badly about it, but it is time they foraged for themselves, as they most likely do in any event. Suffice it for the time being that we sprinkle a handful of peanuts in the shell at the side and front doors now.

The garden is coming along splendidly. The glory of the magnolia has been somewhat muted this year; a reflection I fear, of the very harsh winter just past. But it's blooming, and the petals have begun to litter the gardens below. Soon its large, glossy dark-green leaves will emerge to take the place of the flowers. The Japanese quince is in its full orange-glaze of tiny flowers, and above it the ornamental crabs are beginning to put out their lovely pink little flower buds. The bees are beside themselves with glee.

Yesterday, I divided a few of our older hostas that are getting crowded out by the proliferation of lilies, and re-distributed them to other parts of the garden. A day later, they look fresh and happy in their new residence.

The newly re-located Great Daibutsu facsimile that has spent the last twenty years in our backyard looks fine where my husband has now placed it, under the big pine at the front.