Walking home from the supermarket, I saw a group of three turkeys--two adults and one poult--and then, half a block away, a single male turkey.

I reported them to the Massachusetts wild turkey survey.

We were seeing a larger flock regularly a couple of months ago, before some of them paired off, nested, and settled down to the business of making more turkeys.

I kept not thinking of the wild turkey survey in early June, when I was seeing more turkeys. They are asking people to report sightings from June 1 through August 31, and the serious Turkey Awareness Month* was may.

*At least some of the early-morning gobbling was aimed at each other, rather than at humans, of course.

I left the house this morning intending to go to the farmers market in Central Square. But while I was on the 73 bus, I overheard some people talking about enjoying "one of the last few nice days," so I hopped off the bus next to Longfellow Park. I walked across the lawn to Memorial Drive, then jaywalked across the road to the side right next to the river, and walked along the riverbank for a bit. I just strolled, slow and easy, stopping to look at the river, the very blue sky, trees whose leaves have turned red and yellow, and whatever came along the river. After a bit, I walked back to Mount Auburn Street, then the few blocks to Darwin's, where I bought a sandwich. It wasn't as good as their tea, but it was an adequate lunch. I ate half, then took the rest with me to a park bench, where I ate a bit more while looking at the very blue sky.

From there, I took the bus home, stopping at the supermarket for things we needed for dinner (rice, lime) or breakfast tomorrow (yogurt), but no local or seasonal produce. There will be beets later.

cattitude and I went to the farmers market this morning. I had hoped to get ginger cheese: last week the vendor told me she had none left, and promised to keep some for me this week. As I walked up to her table today, she said she was sorry, but they didn't have any ginger cheese, because they're not making it right now. I commented that she had a good memory, and then we talked a bit more about the cheese. I am probably out of luck, since they're not coming to the Somerville, Arlington, or Cambridge summer farmers markets this year; she said they don't do enough business in/close to Boston.

So we bought apples and pasta and beets, and went upstairs to the Boston Smoked Fish Company so I could get my free fish (for having made ten purchases). I said hello, and that I had free fish coming. The seller asked what I wanted, and then gave me a container of smoked salmon pate. I thanked her, put it away, and asked if she needed my phone number. No, she'd recognized me too.

The combination of those had a "Somerville is a small city" feeling; I know I'm somewhat recognizable, but "that's the woman who wanted ginger Adelisca" is a bit different from "we owe this woman free fish, and I can find her in the database without asking for her phone number." When I talked about this with Cattitude, I thought of another thing that might be relevant here: we're at the farmers market almost every Saturday, because we like walking to a farmers market on Saturday morning, as we did in Inwood. (Wednesday afternoons are nice too, but the combination of Saturday morning and walking distance feels very right.)

We bought a couple of Roxbury russets on Monday, because we wanted to try another apple variety and one that originated in this area seemed like a good choice.

It's a nice apple: I'm tempted to say very apple-flavored, in that it's a good balance of sweet and a bit tart, and the flavor is basically what I expect an apple to taste like. Not very crisp: this one is a little soft, which fits with anne's comment that they get mealy fast, but that's all right because she doesn't mind eating them fast.

So, the news here is that the fire alarms went off when we were about to eat dinner last night, and we trooped out (as one does, especially if they are that loud and include strobes), and after a bit could come back in and have our soup. Standing in the rain, we had assumed it was false alarm number eight or so since we've lived here, and hoped the cats weren't too bothered. There was a faint smell of smoke in the halls as we were coming back, and this morning it turns out that not only was it a real though small fire, but the firefighters found a body in the apartment. The building sent email telling us that they will be remedying water damage today, and that they can't comment on police anything, so all we know beyond that is what we saw on the websites of local news stations.

I was accosted on my way out of the building to get lunch by a couple of reporters for one of those stations. I admitted to having been here, and said it was no big deal and that we had thought until this morning that it was just another false alarm, and in fact her station had been our main source of information. The reporter pressed me on my statement that it was no big deal, and I (unplanned and probably not the best move, but words just come out sometimes) said "I'm from New York City. I've had a shooting death in the building I lived in." When she tried again, with something like "but doesn't it bother you that they don't know what's going on?" I asked her a rhetorical question to which I knew she couldn't tell the truth, namely "Is it your job to scare people?" and after she said no told her to find someone else to talk to.

The thing is, it really doesn't feel like a big deal emotionally; I saw fire engines, but we see fire engines every time the alarms go off. This is a large building, and I don't know most of my neighbors even to say hello to. The reporter was I think assuming that I would read this as "happened near me physically, therefore is relevant," but what little we know sounds like this was personal, not the sort of "wrong place at the wrong time" that makes me worry about that location.