Lately the words “grouchy,” “curmudgeonly,” and “crabby” have been applied to me so often I almost don’t want to go out of the house anymore for fear of causing offense to others.

I try to be cheerier, but I can’t sustain it for very long.

I try to find more hope in things, but I always slip back.

There’s a mockingbird singing up a storm outside the house — has been for hours.

I love mockingbirds. The variety and range of their calls is amazing. They imitate other birds and learn new calls throughout their lifetimes, and can imitate frogs, peepers, crickets, and lots of other things. I’ve heard one back at my old house who could imitate the sound of the hedge shears my dad used to trim small bushes, and there are stories of them mimicking car alarms.

I looked up a reason why a mocker might sing all night — they’re usually daylight singers — and learned that a bachelor male will call nonstop until he finds a mate.

I wish this one luck, for all our sakes.