Summer stills clings tight, even as it’s grasp slips away. The animals are lethargic in the afternoon heat. The paths are quiet, loosely scattered with few toddlers in strollers, homeschool families, and ambling adults.
Cypress swamp, the old 1904 World’s Fair flight cage, is as hushed as a natural swamp. The soft splash and rustle of the birds themselves, seemed muffled against the thick trees. Only the little duck seems to make much noise, insulted by the attention paid to the showier birds.
Under much better care than the ones on my deck, the summer flowers are still thick and bright. They usher out the glowering heat in a final burst of brilliant color.
Rambling ... 