It takes a village to do a blog? It sure does when the blog holder is madly (and e’en angrily) trying to finish a project that has been about twice as much work as expected. Or wanted.
But every now and then, word of the outside world reaches me. In this case, that word is a photo of a female house finch, contributed by Pep Fraser.
And I was moved — not to song, you will be happy to not hear — but to haiku.
House finch lurks on ground;marigolds provide cover.Oops! Caught with mouth-full.
Is the fan going around inside it?
I try not to roll my eyes: You can hear that over the phone, you know. As a follow-on question to my statement that the thermostat display is blank and the air conditioner is not working, it’s sensible enough. Ask anyone who’s been in any kind of technical service job: In general, the general public is generally an idiot. It’s best not to assume that they’re giving you good information. (Try to sound like you) trust, but verify.
No, the fan is not going around
inside the air conditioner.
As conservation authorities in the Ottawa area warn of low water levels
on area waterways this spring, Environment Canada’s forecast
suggests the lack of rain will continue.
– CTV News
As an aside, it seemed wrong, at first glance, that a lack could continue.
While I might not express it quite that way, it certainly captures the feeling of this absence, dearth, shortage, paucity, and scarcity of rain to say that it will go on, extend, linger, keep up, and otherwise endure.
And so, too, must we.
Rain? Distant mem’ry.
Plants? About to be mem’ries.
Weeds? Growing like weeds.
It seems even wronger that near-drought conditions that are hard on the intentional components of my garden seem to have no effect on the volunteer components, apart from making them even harder to dig out of the baked-down soil.
Don’t yell at me.
I looked at the retired colonel in surprise. I hadn’t raised my voice.
Had I?
No. But there’s more than one way to yell. Tone and intensity work almost as well as volume.
As one of those touchy-feely types said to me later over dinner, “Yeah, you yelled at him. Next time, think about what’s happening inside.” I don’t think I rolled my eyes. What’s happening inside, indeed.
If I’d been a day earlier this could have been raindrops on roses.
If I’d been a minute later I would have missed the bee.
Is it the great circle of being? The never-ending cycle of life? The grand procession of the seasons?
I dunno, but the tulips, irises, magnolias, and now even the lilacs are pretty much done until next year. Cue the clematis and the poppies.
By the time I got outside this week, the poppies were past their best – but even their second-best is pretty fine.
Seeds lift in the breeze;
pink leather melts into green.
A start and an end.
Put the bottom of the violin under your chin.
Hold the neck of the violin away from you.
Draw the bow back and forth repeatedly
across the strings to make music.
As I remember it, there were several of these silly instruction sets back in the day, but of course I couldn’t find this one. I did find another, attributed to Monty Python.
I know we’re not quite there yet, but what will normal look like?
For some, being able to get back on the links.
For others, feeling not quite so much on the brink.
For some, getting the kids back into school.
For others, going back to work in an office, or going back to work at all.
I may have mentioned that I am working silly hours at the moment. Maybe once or twice, even. I figure another two weeks and I should be clear.
In the meantime, I do poke my nose outside occasionally. The last time, I found Batman lurking, and both my car’s roof and and my flowering crabapple tree (which almost got carried away by tent caterpillars last year) shedding: raindrops and blossoms, respectively.
Batman lives? And raindrops on (car) rooftops.
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