Mangoes and Birdsong

I went to the Farmer's Market again. This time I bought a roast chicken and two cartons of strawberries. I had unrealistically envisioned the chicken lasting over the weekend, but since we had it at lunch and then again for an early dinner, most of it was gone by the late afternoon. Our friends Carol and Wu stopped by. They brought us two ripe mangoes. Wu sliced them up and we shared them on a single plate. It was a warm day so we had both the front and back doors open. Carol kept walking from one to the other, pressing her face against the screens and exclaiming how lovely it was to hear the birdsong. Their flat in San Francisco is too cold and dark, she says, and not as many birds outside, though she does love it. She's been living there for over thirty years.