I got out for a (false) spring walk, with a sunhat on, whoa, and tremendous bird activity all around. Several woodpeckers pecking and calling, cardinal mating calls all over, wrens, just one or two juncoes -- they're probably leaving now, winter birds here.
Trees warming up in the sun
and a sad sight, trigger alert, scroll by here if you need to avoid sad sight
healthy looking Canada goose down. He doesn't look injured, and there aren't any overhead wires where he fell.
The turkey vultures will soon find him and return him to nature.
Back home I sat on the deck to rest a minute after walking and listen to the birds.
Then I had to think about lunch, the day before groceries are delivered, what to eat, what.
Cavatappi Alfredo. Just right. The butter seems to be cropped out, but the fresh grated Parmesan was very good. Plenty of black pepper, perfect. That's the last of the cavatappi, too. Hm.
I sometimes refrain from reordering right away when I run out of an item, so as to avoid a rut. That way I'll make something different. You have to trick yourself sometimes. Solo living is a rough game.
This afternoon I'm being interviewed yet again by a teenager with a survey to do for a community project on aging. I seem to be the chief Aged Person around here. I've done these for Girl scout projects, community outreach, high school papers.
So tempted to give outlandish answers which she'll solemnly write down. In the Old Country, I went to school by oxcart. We wore coarse smocks, and carried flintlocks in case of highwaymen, ate groats or was that currency. Nah, I'll be nice and tell her the truth, that we spoke Old English and danced around maypoles, but I won't explain the significance of the maypole, she's young .
Anyway here's good news
And happy day everyone, here's a good life in action, good old Mutts
