![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
CollaredPika of Bliss
Apr. 22nd, 2019 09:33 pmSuch a day! A beautiful spring day! It's true that although I badly needed about ten hours of sleep, I only got five. But the advantage of waking up before dawn is that I get to see the sunrises, which have been gorgeous the last few days. However, I am definitely going to pass out one of these days if I don't start sleeping again.
I puttered around indoors a lot, trying to catch up with things that need doing and didn't get done this weekend. There's a lot of joy in just being home and getting to do simple tasks with my own stuff. We opened all the windows, and the air that poured in was WARM and filigreed with birdsong. I am slow, though. In addition to the not sleeping, I'm having asthma problems, probably because of the resurgent pollen and whatnot. I had to use my inhaler several times in the last few days. Deb gave me her copy of Under the Tuscan Sun--partly out of kindness, and partly because the print was too small. When taking a break, I sat down and looked into it. "HA," I said. "At last, a book I need not read. Because she's right, the print is too darn small. Very poor choice by the publisher. Away with you, book." But before I knew it, I was squinting at the small print to read about how they harvested their olives and had them cold-pressed and tasted the oil, and then a recipe . . . . I sighed and put the book on the stack. "Oh FINE," I grumbled. "I'll read this one too."
I took a walk while the Sparrowhawk was at the gym. It was only a few days since I've been to the little woods, but many things have changed. The spring peepers are trilling. I saw a lovely fat toad down by the creek. Coming up under the trees: false rue anemone (which is a buttercup, not an anemone), bluebells, bloodroot, spikes of lily of the valley, dogtooth violets (aka trout lilies because of their spotted leaves--one of my favorites!) As I stepped under the shade of the pine trees, I saw the pearly white sheen of a tiny eggshell. When I turned it over, it was smashed open, revealing the almost-finished hatchling curled up, cold and still, inside. There was another egg that only had one hole in it, but the life-sustaining contents had leaked out. They were beautiful and sad. I think the high winds we had recently must have blown their nest down, though I didn't see it.
I puttered around indoors a lot, trying to catch up with things that need doing and didn't get done this weekend. There's a lot of joy in just being home and getting to do simple tasks with my own stuff. We opened all the windows, and the air that poured in was WARM and filigreed with birdsong. I am slow, though. In addition to the not sleeping, I'm having asthma problems, probably because of the resurgent pollen and whatnot. I had to use my inhaler several times in the last few days. Deb gave me her copy of Under the Tuscan Sun--partly out of kindness, and partly because the print was too small. When taking a break, I sat down and looked into it. "HA," I said. "At last, a book I need not read. Because she's right, the print is too darn small. Very poor choice by the publisher. Away with you, book." But before I knew it, I was squinting at the small print to read about how they harvested their olives and had them cold-pressed and tasted the oil, and then a recipe . . . . I sighed and put the book on the stack. "Oh FINE," I grumbled. "I'll read this one too."
I took a walk while the Sparrowhawk was at the gym. It was only a few days since I've been to the little woods, but many things have changed. The spring peepers are trilling. I saw a lovely fat toad down by the creek. Coming up under the trees: false rue anemone (which is a buttercup, not an anemone), bluebells, bloodroot, spikes of lily of the valley, dogtooth violets (aka trout lilies because of their spotted leaves--one of my favorites!) As I stepped under the shade of the pine trees, I saw the pearly white sheen of a tiny eggshell. When I turned it over, it was smashed open, revealing the almost-finished hatchling curled up, cold and still, inside. There was another egg that only had one hole in it, but the life-sustaining contents had leaked out. They were beautiful and sad. I think the high winds we had recently must have blown their nest down, though I didn't see it.
