That's the response I get from a lot of the birds out in the Bird Park when I sit down at my computer, as I did just now. Before they figure out it's
just me they do that little crouch birds do before launch then they notice it's
just me, straighten up and go back to their business. I'm flattered.
Other than that, the feeling in the house among us two humans is as though we are drawn up into a great wave that is, in six days, going to come crashing down around us. Ready or not, we leave on Friday and will be gone until the end of July.
So, last week M. Lee decided to paint the house alone by hand. It's been on the project list for a few years. At this point, were you to ask, he might say he underestimated the job. In any case, it has upped the pressure about a thousand degrees. Other than that, for me, traveling is
always preceded by great, amorphous anxiety and I am fully in it. I worry about the birds. Don't even say it. I know how pathetic that sounds, as though I am Mother Nature incarnate.They are wild. They will,
somehow, survive my absence. My regret, in part, is purely selfish. Currently, a group of red wing blackbirds are regular customers at Bird Park and all day long they fill the silence with their charming conversation. This is the first time they've been regulars and, of course, they will be long gone when we get back. I know that's nothing but it at least it distracts me from the anxiety of what I'll forget to do or bring and how horrible that 10 hour flight is going to be.
Anyway, thanks for listening, if you got this far. I don't know why but it helps to write about it but it does and, like the message in the bottle, it's comforting to think there is another shore. Now I've gotta go. I've got a list of things to do. Have a great day.