Yellow Bird, Too Small to See Without My Camera

The tall tree behind our fence was full of song again today. I saw three or four different little birds in the dozens and dozens that came and went over the morning. This yellow one was the most unique, but I don't know what it is, nor do I know the name of the tree with its unique red tassels. Nor do I know if these are migrating flocks or an amazing number of creatures that live here permanently. All I'm sure of is that the whole neighborhood comes alive early in the morning with glorious singing, and that's good enough for me.

After birdsong we ventured out to take advantage of Senior Hour, a time set aside by many local markets to give old folks a chance to perhaps shop a little more securely. An illusion perhaps, but something to hang your hat on. We did debate for a good long while as to the wisdom of being in any kind of group at all, but decided that this outing had reasonable limitations. We didn't count on all the folks that simply ignored the signs on the doors that said Seniors Only From 8 to 9 AM. What kind of person pushes past a directive like that? There were young people getting coffee and pastries, mothers with small children in tow, families filling their carts, all of them clearly nowhere near 60. I was horrified, then enraged, then completely unhinged, then determined to get the things we needed, then enraged all over again. I did not confront anyone, I did not roar or cry or stamp my old feet. But wtf people??!!  Seniors from 8 to 9. Is that really too hard to understand? I heard that other stores with this idea were actually checking each person who came in--imagine being carded for trying to buy ground beef!  Actually, that's a bad example: there is no ground beef. Imagine being carded for ignoring the rules. 

We continue our routine of taking a long walk, this time up the hill to a lovely pond. People we encounter outside are very aware of distances and we all do a little dance of waiting for someone to pass before entering a narrow path. Someone near and dear to me has only one complaints. "I wish they wouldn't say hello," he said. "Droplets come out when they do that."  I see these droplets, falling slowly down, littering the ground in a perfect circle around every person who greets us. 

Back at home we work in the garden for an hour or so, weeding and feeding. I sit in the sun and knit a few rows on my shawl. We keep thinking we'll watch a couple of the tv series that we've heard about, but there is never enough time in the day for that.

Day Five