without the song

This morning we went to McKinley Park and walked together--then Erik ran, and I wrote in my journal and wrote a letter to C in Bishop. Afterward, we sat together at a picnic table, and some bugs were scaring me, so we moved to a bench by the pond. We saw baby wood ducks, lots of turtles, Canada geese.

Now Erik's washing dishes, and brown basmati rice is cooking on the stove for lunch.

I'm in the middle of The Magic Orange Tree, which is a book of Haitian folktales. I retold one about an evil spirit fish to Erik, and he liked it though I didn't remember the little song that's repeated throughout so I couldn't sing it for him.