Isn’t this great.? Earlier today, with Jim in charge, the computer burped out this missing bit of backyard history and for the first time in my personal experience lived up to their name.                                                                                                                                                                                         The title is First Blossoms of spring——2012, and they are growing, as I  repeat down the page, just behind the rock wall that runs from the right side of the arbor. See below.
Well, I somehow missed posting the first snowdrops this year, and have resigned myself to greeting spring with my birds. They, and I, have just watched a tiny mouse across the lawn skitter into a hole in front of the rock wall. It is this mole and its family that has been attracting the cats who like to crouch a foot or two away waiting for the crucial moment and distract me into thinking about Ben and Jerry. I do not like this weak grasp I have developed on the thought of the moment. Which reminds me of my mother and her own elderly eccentricities. Is there no end to the meandering thought.
I leave this whole paragraph in place just to show how sad and  basically disoriented it makes me when I run into these photo glitches. I really do think that the essence of blogging is the photo and it is clear to me that although I can illustrate text with photos, it is just as plausible to find the theme of the blog in the text.
It all began yesterday morning when I woke p to brilliant sunshine, and as those of you familiar with central New York know, brilliant sunshine is a state of the earth that can make a person twirl with joy.It’s all so new and so clean. My two favorite chickens, .01 and .03, are sitting on  my lap top table in front of me looking out the window, and although they never speak, I know they are telling me go get out there and look around and see what I can, before some cloud slides over an spoils everything. Sun or not I had enough sense to put on a jacket and pick up the camera and, as if directed by a superior power I head straight for the wall, slip on a piece of ice in the lawn, and arrive at the wall where, you guessed it, the snowdrops were already starting to open. And it is at that very spot that the day’s drama began.
Thinking it over I will now bypass yesterday and move on to today. The most important thing that happened yesterday was that I spent two hours in the morning reading nothing in the Sunday Times except an article in The Arts about the new musical Newsies, following which I ate two slices of bacon and retired to my chair with a cup of coffee and brooded over my inability to move a photo from my camera to the blog page. It was a total waste of time, but  friends rescued me from greater waste by carrying me off to see The Artist, where I learned how I should act today in the face of failure.
As I said, the day dawned as brightly today, a slight snow cover was already beginning to disappear, when I made my plans to tackle digital photography first  hand.
At first Jim said, I don’t know Apple.
Then I said, Oh Okay, I’ll wait for Fiona.
And then he said some kind of manly equivalent to, ‘What the heck.’
And together we did it. We got the snow drops. I can barely settle down long enough to mention that the chickens and I are now watching the parade of living creatures that sail and  flutter and perch all over the yard. The chickadees are on the patio, woodpickers, the cute little ones, are pausing in their northern journey to east on maples and oaks that are proving to be a reliable food source and the shadows of enormous wings speed past, but somehow the birds themselves are hidden away from the window. The shadows are so big I think maybe they are ravens, because they are in a flock. Are there hawk flocks? I didn’t think so. I take a quick glance at .o1 and ,03.  I pretend they are jealous of the live birds that are simply taking over the whole back yard this morning. What a day! What a life.
And within half an hour I’ll be having lunch with Garden Club friends.  Does it make any sense to say how happy all this has made me? Am I too easy to please?

About dorothybloom

Well, I'm a bit on the elderly side , but I'm fighting the decline with my entry into the virtual world. I've been thinking for while that my situation is worth talking a, and for this reason. There is a tension between old and new. The old are intent upon keeping their authority and the young are intent on getting it for themselves. hereThis tension is as old as the Neanderthal and many of his four-legged cousins. And I want to explore that.
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2 Responses to FOR THE BIRDS

  1. Alexa says:

    Well it does sound like you’ve had tremendous triumphs since Saturday, between the luncheon, the movies, and the photos. My only good news is that I had avocados on English muffins for breakfast (with some olive oil and sprinkle of salt and pepper). I wish I could say I was loving House of Mirth, but Lily Bart is boring me so far. I’m hoping I can report as much success as you by next Monday or Tuesday. You never know!

  2. עפרה says:

    Dear Dorothy, Every time you post a photo of your desk chickens I’m pleased to see the small one I brought you among her bigger comrades. Today I realised that you’ve given them numbers, which, when you stop to think of it, might be a step short of naming them. Anyhow, I couldn’t help wondering which of the chickens are no. 1 and 3? And further more, which is the unmentioned no. 2, and why is it voiceless?
    As for being easy to please, isn’t it the prerequisite for joining the “cheerful by choice” movement?
    Love you, Ofra

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