It’s spring here in Los Angeles. Alongside my favorite walking trails in Griffith Park, the mustard is near shoulder high, the pink flowering trees on Virgil Avenue are decked out in their frilly best, and, when the mow and blow guys pipe down for a few moments, the air is blossom scented, and still the tiniest bit cool around the edges. There are two Coopers hawks nesting in a Magnolia near my house and a bevy of finches at the feeder. From my desk, I watch a couple fat squirrels spiral up and down the trunk of a yard tree. The dogs go nuts. The squirrels climb higher, disappearing into the leaves. The dogs return to their patch of sun. A little while later, the whole process repeats.