Same Avians That Were

 

I don’t have access to my desk.  We have a guest over.  That’s fine.  I also don’t have access to the view that extends out from that desk either.   The view I’ve cultivated by tossing sunflower seeds out on to the patch below it for months now.  Who knows what the local animals think?  I don’t suppose they care or that they are necessarily even the same avians that were there last week.  There’s a bunch of good stuff to eat down there.  There’s a suet feeder too.  It gets popular. 

From the dining room you can’t see any of that.  You get a lovely gaze up to Mohonk.  But the yard below is obscured by the wooden fence on the porch.  No matter.  This morning I took a half gallon of the black sunflower seeds and threw them across the yard below.  For a while no one showed.  Word got out.  This is the new in spot, if you’re looking to get yourself some sustenance. 

There was some blue sky about two hours ago.  We’ve been engorged by a within the belly of an unspeakably large leviathan the ribs of whose stomach cavity I can only barely make out the logic of.  I checked.  They say rain, by 3:00PM.  It’s cold.  But it’s not freezing.  I’ll want to get that ride in as I’ll have next to no exercise tomorrow, driving up to Buffalo again. 

 

I’ve got a pot of Roman beans out there I cooked into a refried mush yesterday.  I’m aiming to make some tacos this morning.  I don’t want to overdue it but I’d like this young guest of ours to try some good food while he's here.  He is emphatic about how he dislikes the food at school.  I remember breakfasts in the Shandong countryside.  I can appreciate how salt-dried minnows and pickled daikon would be infernal if repeated every day for one year and then the next.  A lot of writing this morning.  Felt fine to write for hours and hours.  A sabbath day privilege, which is just about over.

Sunday, 11/22/20