Sunrise at mid-day is easier. Actual sunrise can find me feeding horses, dogs, fish and the cat. Yes, drinking green tea,coffee or lemon water, reading and doing all the activities that get the day up and moving is what claims my early light. Most often it’s not until late morning that a moment arrives when I choose to sit down and tap the keys. However, the writing is all done in the spirit of sunrise and that’s what matters. The hour is immaterial, however, I’ll let you know when you get the real deal, when the sun is actually rising and the spirit moves me to chat, because there is something delightful, even delicious when a person sitting in dimness tries to bring up the sun in other people. A Rooster crows. I tap, tap, tap, tap on the keyboard and wait for the sound to burst into your thought on the wings of words.
Words that now bring me around to bird songs, birds and their houses. On the fence around our place and on the paddock fences are bird houses. To my surprise they have all been rented. Often smaller birds will move in first. Then larger birds will take over. Bullies seem to be everywhere. One lavender birdhouse hanging on a eucalyptus tree hosted a woodpecker. It had bullied its way into the birdhouse. Its red topped head peeked out with contentment. It had to do some work on the opening, but it finally made the house its own. It looked quite pleased with itself. All the houses have had some remodeling done by bird residents, most often on the entrances. The bully birds are numerous. They don’t sing much. The smaller, more delicate ones seem to twitter with the m
ost soul. The other morning I heard a truly unique song from the tiniest throat. It came in through the sliding glass door on the balcony and wrapped around my ears, then slid gently into my head. It was glorious. Better than any solo I have ever heard except from soprano, Renata Tibaldi. I once studied canaries to learn how to sing. Renata must have swallowed a canary. Often, I see red tail hawks soaring over the landscape. Imagine a hawk singing like a canary! What a wonderful world that would be, the large and powerful singing melodies of grace and beauty as delicate as the caged canary.
Ciao!
Cathleen and Chris!
“My things are written with an appalling lack of practicality!”
Johannes Brahms
Words that now bring me around to bird songs, birds and their houses. On the fence around our place and on the paddock fences are bird houses. To my surprise they have all been rented. Often smaller birds will move in first. Then larger birds will take over. Bullies seem to be everywhere. One lavender birdhouse hanging on a eucalyptus tree hosted a woodpecker. It had bullied its way into the birdhouse. Its red topped head peeked out with contentment. It had to do some work on the opening, but it finally made the house its own. It looked quite pleased with itself. All the houses have had some remodeling done by bird residents, most often on the entrances. The bully birds are numerous. They don’t sing much. The smaller, more delicate ones seem to twitter with the m
ost soul. The other morning I heard a truly unique song from the tiniest throat. It came in through the sliding glass door on the balcony and wrapped around my ears, then slid gently into my head. It was glorious. Better than any solo I have ever heard except from soprano, Renata Tibaldi. I once studied canaries to learn how to sing. Renata must have swallowed a canary. Often, I see red tail hawks soaring over the landscape. Imagine a hawk singing like a canary! What a wonderful world that would be, the large and powerful singing melodies of grace and beauty as delicate as the caged canary.Ciao!
Cathleen and Chris!
“My things are written with an appalling lack of practicality!”
Johannes Brahms
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