Despite what the calendar says, summer officially started today. Or, actually, yesterday, since it is now tomorrow.

The masked heeler and I were enjoying a lunch of chicken salad on the front porch, (Well, really, only I was enjoying the salad. She was on guard duty, protecting our territory from marauding squirrels. Her sister and Mom were inside, waiting for me to finish and come in to give them their pieces of chicken, sitting on a plate by the microwave.) when I heard the buzzzzzz.

The first cicada.

Now many of you at lower latitudes and elevations have been listening to these things for weeks, if not months. And may even be cursing their incessant noise by now. But for us they are a curiosity, rarely the massive, never-ending chainsaw buzzers that I have heard in places like Missouri.

One lone cicada, buzzing loud and clear. Tracked him down to somewhere in the south elm tree, in one of the large branches hanging over the street. By the time I had his general vicinity pegged, two others had joined the chorus.

Summer is here.

Managed three passes by the owlets today. They have lost nearly all the down off their wings and backs, retaining it only on their bellies, breasts and necks. Looking somewhat weird at this point. Looked quite owlish as they quickly swiveled their heads to glare at me when I said hello.

Still couldn't find the parents, but the old regurgitated pellets full of rodent bones and the scolding grackles by the big blue spruce in the median island tells me where they are probably hiding during the day.

At one visit, the smaller owlet was standing facing the sun (and the parents in their cool, shady roost, I presume) at the extreme corner of their terrace. A sidewards sidle of about 10-15 centimeters and he'd be down on the sidewalk.

Any bets on whether or not I get a call about an owlet on the ground, or the road, in the near future? Shall we start a pool to guess the date?