My father has been uprooting small maples from the yard and planting them in pots in our house. Despite his lack of experience in such things, he's proven successful before: there's now a large-ish maple near the driveway.
And now he wants a bird book, because he grown so fond of feeding the birds. He doesn't know any of their names: called a starling a crow this morning.
As you can see, it's overly hot, and I don't really have anything to say.