Will Work For Food

Yesterday I took a moment, went through and read some of my older posts. Boring. Jeez, I'm so boring.

It was a quiet day. I did a tad bit of yard work, just something to get me outside before the rain hit, but mostly did not a lot of anything. I think I'm on the mend today. I feel a bit better than I did yesterday or the day before. Still stuffy and wheezy and achey, but better. Thanks for all the get well wishes. They must be working.

Paul did some heavy duty yard work and we decided when he was done we would take a swim. But by the time he was finished I felt really cold, goose-bumply cold. So we sat in the hot tub for awhile.

We decided to go to the Black Water Tavern in RI where they have a chicken marsala that is scrumptious. He got out of the tub and I remained in for a quiet smoke.

I sat back and observed a blackbird, hopping about in the grass. He started at Bob and Nan's house and hiked all the way into the woods on the other side of my house. Quite an impressive distance to make with little half inch hops. He was looking for something to eat. Hop hop hop he would go, and suddenly veer off in a quick change of direction, looking at the ground. He would pause and then continue on, serpentining that way across the yard. I never noticed that he found anything, he just kept hopping.

What attracted me to my observations of him was how beautifully his black feathers contrasted with the green grass. As he bobbed his head, the sheen of his feathers changed from a rich black to blue and all the shades in between.

It seemed like a lot of work for supper. And pretty dangerous, too, since there are all sorts of hunters around. I felt sort of a universal guilt about simply having to get in my car and go somewhere where MY supper would be prepared and served to me.

What would it be like to not eat unless I got up and walked and hunted for my food every day? "Bye Mom - I'm going to go find berries for breakfast, then over on the west side to look for grubs for lunch. The blue house has water in their bird bath, so I'll stop there for a quick drink and splash and unless the finches finished all the seeds at that feeder under the tree, I'll pop round there for supper. If the hawk doesn't get me, I'll meet you back on this oak branch at sunset".

Of course, we hear this exchange each morning as they leave, and each evening as they return and share their stories - to us it sounds like birdsong. But they are sharing their plans for the day, and then their adventures each night with each other.

Thats what happens when I "sit still". How ever can I hear my purpose when I have such things in my head????

Why are clouds flat on the bottom?

We went to Black Water Tavern. Closed. Turned around the other direction towards South County Tavern. Closed. Picked up the phone. "I'd like to place a take out order? One small stinky pizza and a chicken tenders dinner, blue cheese dressing on the salad". And headed back towards home, only to find dinner at our old tried but true place, right here in town. Beats hunting for grubs.

Chirp