Last of the Suet Cake

Finished up Ron Leshem’s “Beaufort” this morning.  A client, who’s become a friend, had recommended it to me, as I was considering Israeli novels to read.  A band of brothers, held out in a not so beau Crusader Fort in fin de siècle southern Lebanon.  The Lieutenant Erez is only a kid himself at twenty-one and he swears and insults and loves and grows cold, watching men he was tasked to protect die from the mortars and the rockets and the snipers of Hezbollah.  Rough language, a simple plot, it reminded me a bit of the “Naked and the Dead” perhaps.  But more importantly it gave me context for my friend and for the many other good people I met who’d suggested they’d served in Lebanon at that time.  What a terrible experience it must have been. 

I’ve only a few books left from the dozen I’d secured before heading over to Israel.  They are among the larger works, not surprisingly.  I decided to start off on Amir Gutfreund’s “Our Holocaust” this morning.   Thirty pages in, it seems a rambling recollection of grandfatherly tales and though it is fiction it is beginning to remind me of Amos Oz’ “A Tale of Love and Darkness,” which was supposed to be “astounding” but left me flat.  Perhaps it will pick up soon. 

I was forgiven this morning.  That’s important.  There’s a gent I’ve been trying to reach in Sao Paulo for weeks now.  He’d reschedule Thursday night and last evening, halfway through a leg of duck I realized that I shouldn’t have ignored that buzzing in my pocket.  Missed our call.  Tried him.  He wasn’t there.  And when I wrote him to explain, I blamed St. Valentine.  “Incurable romantic,” was the charge which he readily acknowledged was a legitimate excuse. 

Sharp, clear winter’s day outside.  The squirrels are eating the sunflower seeds I’d tossed out on to the yard, without a care.  Over on the feeder to my left, a downy woodpecker is making short work of the last of the suet cake we have in the little green cage.  The sparrows seem to be the only ones that can use this heavily fortified squirrel proof feeder I’ve hung down under the porch. I’ll need to stop by Lowes today and get a bit more of bird food.  I’ve been wondering what would happen if I simply poured out an entire bag of seed down there on the lawn.  Would a few squirrels ferret it all off or would a larger collective of seed eaters materialize?  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also eager to see more hawks and foxes show up, in response, as well. 

Saturday 02/15/20