Here it is the end of November, on Standard time. So now we wake up in the dark, it gets dark again before dinner time and there are still three weeks before daylight starts gaining ground again. What is so great about Standard time? I like Daylight time. Sunshine would be even later coming but you could get home before dark. I’ve done both winter and summer in Alaska and it doesn’t matter. You need cardboard over the windows in summer to fall asleep at night and you need Valium in the winter for dark induced depression. We are high functioning monkeys, we can do it. Get over it.
But I will be out on my patio on December 21st, fire going in the chiminea, dance a little dance, sipping peach brandy, eating chocolate (my own attempt at pagan communion) singing along with songs about sunshine. Winter Solstice is the longest running, continuously observed religious ritual in human history, if not my favorite holiday then 2nd without a doubt. I really like ‘El Dia del Muertos’ The Day of The Dead and choosing between them wouldn’t serve any purpose.
Back to today, the end of November; it is time to get serious about looking after my birds. I don’t go out of my way to keep them fed thru summer. They do very well on their own. But winter is God’s final exam for birds. Birds that pass get another summer. So I keep raw peanuts, black oil sunflower seeds and suet served buffet style on my patio. I watch them come and go out the kitchen window as daylight perks along with my coffee. Nobody owns the Cardinal or the Nuthatch on the feeder but you can feel engaged when they choose your house to drop in. They fuss and flutter, big birds drive off little ones but they come back around and all get their turn at the buffet. Nobody can own the squirrels either. They don’t think, don’t fret, don’t make plans, nor do they take pleasure in my displeasure. The myth of squirrel intelligence is just that. They are relentless, never give up; that is what they are. It often leads to success in ways we didn’t imagine but it doesn’t make them smart. Birds can be discouraged and retreat but they sing sometimes and they can fly. They can fly, OMG they can fly. As a kid I was in awe of birds. If I could have flown I would never have landed.
Sometimes I struggle with Pandemic Blues. In April there were hot spots where people were dying in droves. Now the dying is spread around with only one big hot spot, everywhere. So different day, same shit. Fatalities are peaking again with serious blooms expected after Thanksgiving, Christmas and again after the end-of-year foolishness. I’m struggling today. All I can do is avoid people, keep clean, wear a mask outside my house, get some exercise, stay hydrated and eat all I need but no more. On the bright side, if there is one, I am saving money. But struggle is like gravity, always there, always pulling you down. You can leap the hurdle and the hang time is great but you come back down and there you are. The struggle will have mutated just enough to give you pause and dull your edge. All you can do is find cause to leap again. That’s what I’m doing. I feel like Tom Hanks character in ‘Cast Away’ must have felt, talking to a volleyball, trying to spear a fish.
But I will be out on my patio on December 21st, fire going in the chiminea, dance a little dance, sipping peach brandy, eating chocolate (my own attempt at pagan communion) singing along with songs about sunshine. Winter Solstice is the longest running, continuously observed religious ritual in human history, if not my favorite holiday then 2nd without a doubt. I really like ‘El Dia del Muertos’ The Day of The Dead and choosing between them wouldn’t serve any purpose.
Back to today, the end of November; it is time to get serious about looking after my birds. I don’t go out of my way to keep them fed thru summer. They do very well on their own. But winter is God’s final exam for birds. Birds that pass get another summer. So I keep raw peanuts, black oil sunflower seeds and suet served buffet style on my patio. I watch them come and go out the kitchen window as daylight perks along with my coffee. Nobody owns the Cardinal or the Nuthatch on the feeder but you can feel engaged when they choose your house to drop in. They fuss and flutter, big birds drive off little ones but they come back around and all get their turn at the buffet. Nobody can own the squirrels either. They don’t think, don’t fret, don’t make plans, nor do they take pleasure in my displeasure. The myth of squirrel intelligence is just that. They are relentless, never give up; that is what they are. It often leads to success in ways we didn’t imagine but it doesn’t make them smart. Birds can be discouraged and retreat but they sing sometimes and they can fly. They can fly, OMG they can fly. As a kid I was in awe of birds. If I could have flown I would never have landed.
Sometimes I struggle with Pandemic Blues. In April there were hot spots where people were dying in droves. Now the dying is spread around with only one big hot spot, everywhere. So different day, same shit. Fatalities are peaking again with serious blooms expected after Thanksgiving, Christmas and again after the end-of-year foolishness. I’m struggling today. All I can do is avoid people, keep clean, wear a mask outside my house, get some exercise, stay hydrated and eat all I need but no more. On the bright side, if there is one, I am saving money. But struggle is like gravity, always there, always pulling you down. You can leap the hurdle and the hang time is great but you come back down and there you are. The struggle will have mutated just enough to give you pause and dull your edge. All you can do is find cause to leap again. That’s what I’m doing. I feel like Tom Hanks character in ‘Cast Away’ must have felt, talking to a volleyball, trying to spear a fish.
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