Voila, mes amis oiseaux. The Towhees get into the feeder and kick out the seeds, so many of my tiny beautiful friends feed off the ground. I watch them every day. I adore my life here.
Prawn risotto for lunch, quesadillas from Shelly and Kevin for dinner and fresh-baked Plumb cake for dessert. Plus, nuts soaked in lime juice, baked and sprinkled with nice big coarse grains of salt for snacks whilst we played games. And then, a nice slow cozy evening ending with Prime Suspect.
Last night: Clear skies and bright moonlight. I fell asleep looking forward to a day outdoors today, but arose to rain, rain, rain. The reservoir in Rollo Park is almost full to overflowing, the trails are lakes and rivers, but as I keep saying here: It is mighty warm for Winter.
I’m reading a great book as I wait for the ones I ordered a month ago to arrive. When All Is Said is delighting me on every page. Anne Griffin has a gift with words and beautiful simple language. It’s a delight to have a book like this during a deluge that is unending. Such imaginative storytelling thrills me.
I earned myself a good living from technical writing and I felt slightly more than competent at doing it, but I have no imagination. I have a skill; Griffin has a monstrous talent, and I can feel the difference inside me. I envy her, and so many others, who can make such magic.
Just before nine, this morning, the sky suddenly cleared. I saw blue and white cotton, so I donned a light coat so as not to overheat, and Sheba and I headed to the dry trail. It’s a five-minute drive to the trailhead, and five minutes into the long uplifting walk I envisioned, down it came. A torrential downpour, like the Monsoons I experienced in India, soaked us to the skin. Never, have I felt so happy to be home, out of my clothes and into dry ones, and by the fire.
Will it ever end, this Biblical Winter of water?
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