Bluebirds, Buzzards, and Crows...

Dear Maria,

Just a quick note to see if all is well on your side of the world following our second ice episode. Of course, deep blue skies and temperatures in the 70s have sent—for most folks around here—the Mood-o-Meter tilting back to the positive side. But not for everyone. Some residents, especially well out beyond city limits, are facing perhaps another week without power. Hope the fair weather speeds the repairs.

I may need to drag out my books on symbolism as this morning’s quiet while I finished up a second mug of coffee was interrupted by three crows chasing a turkey buzzard as it glided along. They even managed to pluck a few tail feathers from their target. My inner shaman—now there is a reach—thinks the scene a good omen: Nothing here to clean up.

Went by last week to check on some friends in town to see if all were well, and in the course of conversation, I shared my mantra of late that most people in any given moment are doing the best they can, even if their behavior is awful. Nothing earth-shaking there, but then I have to accept that anyone I run into might be looking at me thinking, well he’s doing the best he can and it’s not good.

Might be a while before I can carry on a relaxed chat with someone without wondering who is getting the better of our bests. My listeners gave me the benefit of the doubt. I could see it in their eyes. Good friends.

Young bluebird couple endured the ice storm and now periodically are perching outside the condo’s entrance like they may be keeping an eye on a new brood. I had to take down the willow oak, which was doomed long-term mostly likely, which means a landing zone for the chicks is not so close on the wing. Guess they could drop down into the plum tree, but it needs another year or two before it becomes a significant perch for them.

Max retrieved a winter sock from the bedroom and took it down to his blanket in the living room, but then pulled an empty cracker sleeve from the garbage and brought it to the bedroom. All this while I was in the shower. I forget he is only turning two in April.

Nothing profound—obviously—but the days pace along, and with each week, spring surely is 

at hand.

As always, still, srk