As the twilight fell over the yellow bushes and grey, barren trees, the blackbird’s multi-note timbre rose from the wetlands, from behind the cold rain; I imagined him, king of the marsh, lord of creaking frogs, mists and green waters, his ruby epaulette flashing from between the reeds. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend walk near the lake today and returned home after a meal to the cozy comfort of togetherness and a long movie.