Who’s that singing? I peered through the glass of the storm door and discovered a little sparrow belting out an aria on the deck. The sight beyond the sparrow quickly turned my smile into a frown. Thin-stemmed, summer plants drooped over the edges of pots and cried for replacements. The grass, drained of summer’s lush green, imitated a worn, beige carpet. The typical mid-autumn scene looked drab and colorless—much like how the uptick predictions of coronavirus cases and recent political controversy make me feel. As I concentrated on the bleak picture, the little feathered songster hopped onto a…