Long Walks

On our walk to the opening of the Farmer's Market a couple of weeks ago, Sam came upon a newborn baby bird laying dead on the sidewalk in town. Whether this bird fell out of it's nest or was pushed was open to a brief, irrelevant debate. I found a stick and  managed to scrape a small hole in a nearby patch of dirt, placed a rock over it and we continued on our way. 

Sam thanked me, which for some reason, caught me by surprise.

The subject of this baby bird came up once or twice thought the day - not so much as in conversation but more just a stray comment followed by comforting. 

Later that day, on our evening walk, we came upon another one. This one, like the other, all pick skin, all beak and feet. As with the one in the morning, I again found a stick and managed to dig a small hole and bury in a shallow grave, topped with a small stone.

We continued on our walk - with a little trepidation, hoping that would be the end of it.

Sam and I look forward to our evening walks but this experience, twice in one day, gave us pause - at least for a little while. We were hoping this would be the end of it. 

We pushed through and so far at least, no more dead baby birds lay in our paths. 

From time to time though, the subject of these poor little things has come up - but briefly and less and less so with the distance of time. 

Sometimes, maybe all the time, that's all you can do. Just keep pushing forward- push forward and hopefully get some distance. But still think of those baby birds from time to time, and know it's ok.

Today's Q&A

 Q: What Would Jesus Do?

A: Apparently, rent a storefront on Main Street and hand out free cardboard.

How I Spent (part of) My Saturday

I went in for an MRI yesterday. (Nothing serious. I think my doctor just needed to make a boat payment). The MRI itself was no big deal. The worst thing about the entire experience was that beforehand, I had to put on one of those open-in-the-back hospital gowns. 

First of all, those gowns are impossible to tie. There's one pair of ties at the back of the neck. That I know for sure. But there's one, possibly two more pairs of ties somewhere lower down. Getting a hold of one of the lower ties isn't a problem. The problem is trying to tie it to it's partner. 

I'm blindly reaching down behind me, trying to grab anything that's loose. Have I grabbed the right tie? Why does it feel like the other tie is on the same side of the gown as the first tie? I'm turning around in circles trying to get these things to meet up. There's a big mirror there, but that's no help. There's no way to see behind me. It's like trying to tie your shoes behind your back. I don't think I ever got it tied right.

To make the experience even worse, after you manage to sort-of get the gown tied (at the top only, with any confidence), they march you down not one, but two hallways - all the while, clutching the back of the gown in a vain attempt to hold the gown closed. The only thing more humiliating would have been if they made me carry a balloon.

But the worst thing about those gowns is that you have to get dressed (and undressed) in a tiny little booth-sized room, with nothing in there but a small wooden locker, a rock-hard wood bench and worst of all, a full length mirror. I don't like looking at myself under the best of conditions (which implies there ever are any 'best of conditions') and I certainly don't like to look at myself stuffed into a hospital gown, looking like I'm about to get wheeled down to the maternity ward. 

I was thankful it was Saturday which meant that there was hardly anyone else there. And the people that were there were nice. At least they didn't laugh at me - not until I left, anyway.

Spotted on Today's Walk

...and, oh yeah, peace be with you.

Catching Up - Part III

Well, the devastation at the duck-less former duck pond is now complete. All the surrounding trees have been taken down. The old wooden post and rail fence is gone. The duck/goose house has been removed without a trace. The pond is now lined with a ring of sharp, jagged rocks which in turn is surrounded by a bright white plastic fence.

Not only are there no ducks (of course) but there are no signs of the red wing blackbirds that used to live nearby - or the cedar waxwings gliding over the water, catching flies. No frogs to be seen or heard either - not even a whisper from the peepers.

I'm not sure what look the people responsible for this travesty were going for but if it was Urban Catch Basin, they've succeeded.

On a brighter note, on Sam's and my latest walk, just last night, we spotted a small turtle, about the size of a mason jar lid, scooting along under the water.  

Maybe there's hope.

But, boy, I sure miss that old wooden fence.

 

Catching Up - Part II

Speaking of the bike path, one of my favorite views is down the path, just before the Bridge of Death, where there's a break in the woods. This view looks south, over the farm fields. 

I've never been able to figure out what the ultimate goal of this farm(er) is. One year, this field is all strawberries. Another, it's corn. Another, it's pumpkins. Another, it's strawberries and pumpkins. Then it goes back to corn. 

But mostly, it's strawberries and/or pumpkins...

About 2 weeks before this most recent walk, it looked like they had another lush crop of strawberries coming in. When we went back, whatever it was, it was all gone.

I'm no farmer (by a long shot) but I thought you picked the crop first - and then you plowed it under.

Anyway, it must all be part of a master plan - a plan that obviously eludes my unfortunately non-agriculturally minded brain.

Any bets on what the crop will be this year? The winning answer receives absolutely nothing except my somewhat worthless admiration.

Catching Up - Part I

Don't take my lack of posting personally. It reflects a boredom only with myself, not you. I find myself saying the same things over and over again, mostly because, for better or worse, I'm doing the same things over and over again. Anyway, that said...

I don't know if you can tell by this picture but there are way too many people on what I have come to consider My Bike Path. Oh, I welcome family members - and if you're reading this, I would welcome you too. But these people? I don't even know these people. 

I'm not sure how they found this spot but I resent them being here. I resent it even more because many of them aren't wearing masks, plus they're the types of people who won't even bother to move over when you walk by. 

They act like they own the place. I hate that.