Since there are no squirrels in this vicinity in need of feed, red-leafed tree has decided, instead, to baptize me with multitudinous blessings. Its ossature permits covering me even though it stands quite a bit back, too shy to stand close enough to smell my hair recently clove-shampooed. This spot is usually perfect for brushing up on zoosemiotics, but not only are the bushy-tails away, neither can the feathery-flyers be found. Will the company return if I recite a cantefable for them? The French are quite deft at the art of attraction, so fingers crossed that fuzzies will return to enjoy with me embellishment by rosy petals of welcoming. ; )