We’ve Got Options

It’s getting pretty close.  Last weekend other things go in the way.  There’s only six days left till Christmas so today both agree to go and find a tree.  Our first Christmas back here in a long while, we will also need a tree stand. In Beijing it was getting pretty sparse last year.  I don’t have to look back at last year's entry to remember the Christmas tree lady, nearby the bridge over the fetid canal only had two or three trees left.  “Whatdya think?  All the laowai have left.”  She asks for $120.00 and you say: “I’ve been coming to you for ten years?  $80.00 and not a penny more.” This, even though she, herself, might not have been here last year and she can’t distinguish you from any other foreigner she may or may not recall from last year.  You put the cash in her coat.  She refuses, you come to an agreement.  The tree itself is loaded, dirt and all on to a scooter and driven over about twenty-minutes later and three men lug the tree, potted in a green wooden tub, dirt and all into your living room. 

We’ve got options in New Paltz.  Over at Lowes we considered multiple tree stands and chose something that looked just like the one we have in storage back in Beijing.  We got more bird seed, some Christmas lights and a bunch of mousetraps too.  They had trees all lined up but this late in the year it was slim pickings.  No matter, our plan had been to visit the Balsam Ridge Christmas Tree Farm, down South Street from Lowes.  It was a lovely drive down but cresting up to the bluff upon which this farm was located it was immediately apparent that the only trees they had left were next year’s aspirants.   We considered going in and asking but everything looked deserted, so we cut back down the road without stopping. 

Mercer Farms near our house had trees and we went back there.  But the trees were all under six feet tall: “Yeah.  It’s too late in the year.  I don’t think anyone has anything tall left.”  I groaned when my wife suggested we head back to reconsider the Lowes’ stock.  We did anyway and reconfirmed that the trees were all too short and thin.  My wife was heading over the river to pick up our daughter.  That place we’d visited yesterday in the old Montgomery Wards’ mall will have a better selection than anything we’ve seen here. She was worried they’d need to tie the tree on to the roof.  “If you buy it tonight, I’ll go pick it up tomorrow.”

At home I made two pizzas.  I have the pre-made dough.  I know what the visual looks like for spinning pizza dough into a proper pie.  I ought to practice.  I have the hairy arms for it.  Every time I try, which is once or twice a month I just give up after an initial spin, feeling ridiculous, and pull it out into something like a circle, which is fine except the center gets to thin and when you pull it out of the oven and cut them into triangles the toppings prove too heavy for the thin crust.  And on one of the two pies, that is what happened tonight.   

My wife surprised and brought the tree home with her, wrapped up, in the car.  At least our tree’s up.

Thursday 12/19/19

They Prove Indomitable

Squirrels are all right.  They are nowhere to be found in China.  I don’t believe they’re an old-world species.  Introduced, one can’t but wonder how long they’d last in Chinese public parks.  Squirrels can be cute.  Big fuzzy tail to sit upon as they manipulate seeds with their tiny paws.  Squirrels are interesting, as they are intrepid, and ingenious animals who can climb, leap, reach and outwit most human efforts to keep food out of their reach and available only to birds.

The set up outside my window has one “squirrel-proof” feeder that is actually living up to its name.  There’s a cage of suet that the squirrels have not figured out how to open yet, and on the hook that is closest to the porch there is a multi-tiered red feeder that the squirrels have cracked.  If you pop the stopper on the bottom of the feeder, the seeds all pour out on to the porch.  And if I see them fiddling with it, like I just did, I get up and open the door out on to the cold and make a stupid noise and with they run away.  

Why do I care?  They aren’t any less hungry than the birds.  The winter is just as tough for them and they don’t have the luxury of flying south. Let the squirrels eat.  But I don't.

Firstly, the birds are varied.  There are blue jays, and red cardinals and monochromatic woodpeckers.  Birds fly in.  That in itself is remarkable to consider.  And birds take one seed at a time.  A small investment keeps legions of birds fed over time.  So, we set up holders and purchase feeders that are designed to outwit the higher order mammals and get frustrated with they prove indomitable.  I don’t mind if they are eating the seeds that have fallen on the ground.  The birds don’t seem to mind them either.  But I get indignant when they try to manipulate the actual feeders.  It feels like an affront and I jump up and try to put a stop to it.

I scattered a bunch of seeds out on to the white covering on the ground before the kitchen window.  The squirrels came there too.  Scattered on the ground, I didn’t seem to mind.

Wednesday, 12/18/19    

    

To the Cedar to Digest

Call from 2:00AM.  Then one at 3:30AM.  It was supposed to snow deep this evening and each break I had I turned off the lights and went to the window and looked outside.  There was snow.  But there wasn’t much of it.  At 5:00AM I could hear my daughter’s alarm go off.  They had been forewarned that there would likely be a snow day today and that five would be the time by which they’d call it.  Not long after I got an email from the school announcing as much. 

When the sun finally came, and she made her way down the stairs looking for orange juice we could both see clearly that it was a wet snow.  I looked again at the online site that told me the temperature outside.  It was twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.  Should be cold enough to snow.  And it is.  But only barely.  We’ll all be sitting around here today, it would seem.   Youtube’s found me a live Lee Morgan from Baltimore in 1968, with Clifford Jordan on tenor, Ed Blackwell on drums, Reggie Workman on bass and John Hicks on the keys, and it's majestic.

The bird feeder is full-on this morning.  Word’s out, on this crappy, cold morning that there is food in this here backyard.  At first it was the usual suspects.  Then a flock of some aggressive birds in black settled on the trees and barnstormed the feeder, pushing everyone else away.  (My mom suggested and the photo app on the Pixel 3 that matches photos to Youtube samples seems to confirm that they are common starlings.)  And then this mobile gang all disappeared and moved on.  I stopped what I was doing just now to consider the blood red, male cardinal with his black facial trim and orange beak.  By the time I had my camera up and ready to zero in on him, he’d hopped and fled. 

How cold they must all be out there?   The rain can’t but dampen their feathers and the air is just cold enough to freeze.  The momentary satisfaction of finding a seed or two must be delightful in the moment.  But as they fly back to the cedar to digest what they’ve found, the awful cold must return quickly, mortal.  Why didn’t they head south for the winter?  Presumably Louisiana and Mexico are nice this time of year.  They must be very tough these local fellas. 

Tuesday, 12/17/19