February 4, 2011 § 13 Comments
There was no news (or so you might have thought) but only Weather this past week. The Midwest (and who can define that, exactly?) was under the white stuff’s seige. Unblinking, we pre-shopped (went milking, breading, watering) well ahead of time and brought work home from the office so that Tuesday, the day it rained sleet and ice like little sugar balls for 10 hours, we gathered around the table in the biggest silence felt there since our son anounced he’d changed majors (again).
We worked. We typed and clacked and sighed and backspaced and kept at it and looked at the clock and kept going and sometimes one of the three of us got up to fetch a snack for the trio. (It wasn’t a shared work session; only shared space.) And I gotta say, when you work from home, you work longer. There is no cut-off time, no bell ringing and you press on.
Ah, but sometimes, too, one of us would get up from the table to walk around and stretch a little and inevitably look through the wall of windows to watch the critters who live in the Backyard to eat at Lochcrest Seed Cafe. And come they did! And then came the
excuse reason every couple of hours to coat-boot-and-hat up to refill the feeder and throw some on the ground for the bigger birds and put another suet in the tree for the battling grackle and red-headed woodpecker, the latter being far more a gentleman.
The silence of it all, except the ping and hiss of ice in the air, was beautiful. We didn’t play music; we rarely talked unless we happened to meet in the kitchen and look out the window at the same time. And then it was in a whisper as though we might scare the birds and the Archies (beloved squirrels – 3 of them, oddly enough)! As if they could hear above the storm – but maybe they could? Funny the details we don’t know sometimes about stuff that’s around us.
We worked past dark. HM called us the Little House on the Prairie (he loved having us all together AND working).
On the soft side of the storm, the treat of it: we got to witness the backyard ecosystem at hours we wouldn’t normally get for such observation.
Here’s to all, great and small, who endured the storm no matter its manifestation.
Looking at an art, or PRINT magazine or any number of photography magazines: they will have you grabbing a pen in no time and writing on whatever’s around (tho’ those 2″x2″ stickies are NOT the best for recording a rash of thoughts, unless you write in a tiny hand), even writing on the magazine’s pages if desperate! Catch that spontaneity.
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Wicked Bestiary by David Sedaris. The book might be physically small, nearly tiny, but it is, nonethess somehow a coffee table book (which, as you know, are typically behemoths full of pictures). A guest, waiting on the couch to be called to dinner, could down one or two of the stories in this little tome in no time.
Sure, the stories picks up on human foibles, but the writing is fun in the way that the sardonic Sedaris can be fun. Also, you have to love the drawings.
Come to think of it, is the size of this new Sedaris a “take off” on the inimitable Ms (Beatrix) Potter’s wonderful animal stories? I wonder. Little matter: you can read him standing in the bookstore or peek at some pages online or, maybe pick it up the next time you’re visiting a booklover’s house where there it is, small and unassuming, on the coffee table.
Archie enjoys praying over his sunflower seeds. Though we offered some old bits of bread, he stayed with the seed. And later, he enjoyed a literal windfall when the suet ball covered in various seeds was ripped from its branch by the wind. Archie just happened to be there and make good use of the now-grounded booty.