The Early Bird and Mexico

Okay, let's get one thing straight here. I'm not actually afraid to go to Mexico. No really. No more than I'm afraid to get up in the morning. I have to admit, getting up in the morning has been a problem in the past. A big problem. But that was then and this is not then... and getting up is not such a problem. In fact, I'm generally pretty enthusiastic these mornings and have been for a good long time. I won't get into it here but trust me when I say I do know what it's like living under the covers, literally. Anyway that's enough to bring me around to the other half of my duel topic, the Early Bird.

The Early Bird in my tiny world happens to be a Magpie. I doubt you've heard but I consider myself quite fortunate on this account. If I'm up earlier enough and quiet enough, there is often a solitary magpie having breakfast in my bird park (read "dirt back yard") before anyone else gets there. Even during the recent snows, there was the one set of big claw prints weaving through the snow, following the seed trail buried below. As a child, the adults made a point of what they assured me was F*A*C*T. The early bird always gets the worm. This is another myth I have lived to witness reality prove otherwise. At least here, the Early Bird here doesn't generally get the best part of the meal. Why? Because she's too early. I put out the goodies... the scraps of bread, new seed, the occasional lump of moldy quiche or cheese and break the water in the ice after she's come and gone. Is there a lesson in this? Sure. Why not? I can squeeze a lesson out of just about anything, even for the Early Bird. Eat breakfast twice.

Reluctant Traveler

We're leaving for Mexico in two weeks, Oaxaca City to be exact, which is located in the mountains of Oaxaca. The plan is to meander through Mexico, camping as much as possible along the way, stay in Oaxaca City for a month and then perhaps drift down into Guatemala or go to Belize for a bit but that depends on how we (I) am doing. This is something I wouldn't be doing on my own, first because I couldn't afford it and second because I'm lazy and a chicken. Lee is the mastermind. A lot of people would be ecstatic over an adventure like this but me? I tremble and groan. I'm pathetic. Ah well. I've lived through the worst of times I guess I can survive a little kick ass fun. Lee is an angel and I, well I am one strange bird.

Happy Leap Year!

Good-bye February.

Not Mick Fleetwood

In case you're wondering, that guy in Trafalgar Square is not Mick Fleetwood of Fleetwood Mack. In a recent post, Plonk and the Stranger Pigeons, I pondered the possibility of me and my backyard becoming overrun with pigeons and included that photo to illustrate the idea. The next day I got an email saying that the bird man was Mick Fleetwood, which didn't seem right so I wrote the photographer, Paul Gapper, and asked him. He wrote back, "it is just someone who was standing there at the time and not Mick Fleetwood". So, rest easy. It's not Mick on the skids. BTW, Paul's site is pretty cool. Check it out.

Stormy Wednesday

Yesterday I mentioned how it seldom it rains around here and then today it rained that dreary, all day kind of rain that Seattle and London are so famous for. Now tonight, it's snowing. That, at least, is more in keeping with the region. Anyway, I wrote a poem today I'm calling....


ASH WEDNESDAY


rain is forever

yesterday
lies on its back
caught in memory loops
legs spread open
the rate of decay is terrifying

before it’s too late
I confess
my mind has a past
wealth at this level
does not come without a price



-asha