there are days

There are days when you miss the people you could talk to about anything.

sunday insightful laziness

It's cold. It's gray. Unlike intrepid birders, I am content watching mine from the comfort of the front room, with a hot cup of coffee. It's okay to call me a slacker - you may NOT have earned the attentions of a ruby crowned kinglet in your yard, so I understand. I feel I'm serving my purpose if I keep him (yes, him, with his beautiful ruby head) fat and happy with peanut butter suet. I've got it started on the stove as I type this.
Over the holidays, we received a call from my cousin, who lives in Hawaii. Once a year calls from relatives are different from daily calls. You resort to the Year in Review method of communication, because you won't hear from them for a while. This year, I overhear my dad saying, "She wants to start a bird store. Apparently they sell stuff for that, I don't know."
So with that, I post an article a friend of mine sent me this morning. The author makes interesting observations about birding in history and why people do it today. I will say, however, that I don't see it as quite the same harbinger of doom. I do see it as a litmus test. Because I'll tell you something, as I drove back from my grocery trip this morning, I did a mental inventory of the houses in my neighborhood, and how many people I even know. It's a small list. Similarly small is the list of people who spend ANY time outside their home doing something other than mowing the lawn. We live in the south, one of the most temperate climates on the planet. Everyone in this subdivision has a substantial back yard. And yet, only two families garden. I am one of them. The other? My neighbor. There are five families, including myself, who plant flowers or other decorative plants. And when it comes to birdfeeders, I am the lone ranger, unless you count the lady on the opposite end of the neighborhood who has a single faded birdfeeder that belonged to her elderly mother before she passed. It's never had seed in it.
So I bird. By contrast, I walk my neighborhood regularly. I plant flowers, shrubs and vegetables. Birding did that. Birding lures me outside more often. When I'm outside, other things draw my attention. The longer I am outside, the more I see. The longer I am outside, the better I feel. The longer I am outside, the longer I want to be outside.
Harbinger of doom, no. Gateway to a better life, yes. To me, birding is a good way to start. Not the only way. But a good way.
So while we're speaking of Articles You Should Read, I would be remiss if I didn't give a huge attaboy to a friend and incredible birder, Connie Kogler, of Loveland, Colorado. Her recent article, "Herding Prairie-Chickens: A Field Trip Leader's Guide," appeared in the January edition of Birding magazine. You can't read the article online, but you can see the table of contents. I have been so fortunate to meet Connie and her generous family. Not only is she ALSO a walker, gardener and birder, she leads a popular series of bird walks called Birding the Big Thompson River. When fifty-seven people will bundle up to leave the comfort of their front room and nearby coffee pot to follow someone into the woods, you've got to give that person some credit. You can read about her experience here. So if you are local to her, you should pencil her in for February.
Apparently, you can sell people, not only on birds, but on a walk through our big and beautiful blue-green planet. Trust me, I'm very glad to hear it.

--Laura

martin luther king

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends. -- Martin Luther King, Jr.

A commentary on more than race, but something to guide our actions every day. Happy MLK Day, everyone.

other examples of cabin fever

Meanwhile, some folks are responding a little less gracefully to our winter weather blast.



Don't be stupid people. Don't be stupid. -- Megan Mcglover.

Amen.

-- Laura

snowmaggedon still

I think I'm trapped.
Send help.
Even this post seemed funny. I've been alone too long.

--Laura

snow changes things

Observations about snow might seem a little naive to some. I'm not unfamiliar with it, afterall. But it has been a while since we've had snow to fall and stay, so permit me a little ramble.

Snow changes things. Stepping outside in the dark to take Mollie outside, you reflexively look up because the light reflection is different. The snow blanket, by turns, makes things more quiet and makes any sound more pronounced. And I get the whole concept of there being all different kinds of snow. There was wet, sloppy snow last year. There's been dry fluffy snow this year, followed by hard, crunchy ice-covered snow that's rigid enough to (mostly) hold my dog up as she wanders around the backyard, searching for her familiar landmarks.

And standing outside, waiting on my dog, a breeze kicks up. As it skates across the ice and snow, it chills the air. All of a sudden, I'm too poorly dressed. That's another part of it all. Gloves and layers and jackets have to be planned. Inside, curtains have to be pulled and faucets dripped.

When I had two dogs, I was always worried how short-haired Mollie would handle being a rocky mountain dog. They were both part of my family and while I felt Petey would thrive, I figured she'd struggle in the winter months. And for an honest assessment, I don't think the winter will ever be Mollie's favorite season. At the same time, she doesn't hesitate to go out in it. Each time she goes out, she learns more. She adapts to the changing terrain under her feet.

Like Mollie, I'm going to head into new frontier (when it's time), without a buddy. As a result, I'm probably moving more slowly than I would with encouragement. But that's okay. You can even learn lessons from pets. I can adapt to the terrain too. I can dress better for the weather.

Bring it on, snow. I've got your number.

--Laura

snowmaggedon update

I am so bored.

I AM so bored.

I am SO bored.

I am so BORED.

It is snowmaggedon - Day II.

Showers entered Georgia Sunday evening. Fueled by moisture from the Gulf, we got about 5 inches at my house, more in other locations. Monday was a time of warm snuggling enjoyment. I clearned snow and put out seed and water for feeding birds. Mollie and I walked the neighborhood. Chili and cornbread. Office closed. I watched the news, as road crews worked in vain to clear the roads. The city of Atlanta has 6 plows, so they are completely overwhelmed.

Today, the excitement is wearing off. I am not sure why they won't just close the roads in order to clean them. Cops report that the roads are open, and people go. But when they are transporting emergency personnel using humvees and national guardsmen, perhaps you might consider that you're not a good enough driver to manage it in your Ford Escort?

Though, truth be told, the tractor trailers are causing the most problems. As they jackknife, they close down the entire interstate. When one trailer slides into another, it creates a clog that takes hours to clear, leading to people stranded for 24 hours.

Pearly Lee and I are staying home. Thanks. Today, it occurred to me that if I didn't want to walk on ice in the driveway, I needed to clear it. I found a flat head shovel and broke up the ice from the carport to the front door.

Don't laugh. I'm the first one on my block to do it. After lunch, it will be time to tackle the driveway.

But I'm bored. And it's snowing again.

---Laura

getting some weather

This weekend, we're getting some weather.
One of my coworkers hates this "southern" phrase. It's all weather, she insists.
Regardless, the weekend forecast calls for snow. All day, everyone invoked the snow caveat. "Hey, if we're all here Monday, we will definitely get that printed." Even the weatherman advised viewers to get food for two days, including something that didn't need cooking. After so many seasons of drought, ice and snow is expected to bring down trees on powerlines.
This expectation is over a forecasted 1-2 inches of snow.
In fairness, we do not get a hit of powerful snowstorms. We get a "wintry mix." First rain, next sleet that ices. Finally, snow. Our dark roads look like a shiny whale's skin in the rain. They look exactly the same with a thin sheet of ice on them. And in our last blast of rain and freezing temperatures, I was again on the roads, trying to get home. I didn't spin out between the town of Hiram and home, but I drove 15-20 mph most of the way. And on one icy stretch, I had to inch along.
Currently, we're an eager state full of school children, wishing for a snow day.
I think I'm making chili.

--Laura

An Epic Battle: Ben Franklin versus MGM

I had to take a special day off tomorrow (Monday) in order to have a 4-day weekend, but I took it. For weeks I've been craving an opportunity to fix my nest.
For the past several months, I've been so busy with family and birding that the home has become a big back burner. Instead of putting things away, I've been hiding them. I had actually forgotten where things SHOULD go, where I had DECIDED they should go.
Who doesn't do this, right?
So, I'm making good progress. If I get bored in one room, I change focus and work on another room. I bought hangers. I bought a shoe organizer. I have rearranged furniture. Even that ominous little drawer by the fridge where everything gets hidden has been sorted. There were coupons there from 2001.
Tasks of this magnitude seldom happen without unearthing old memories. I have found several letters I've written the past few years, fully meaning to send. I re-read them in light of where I am currently, and I find myself wondering if sending them would have changed where I am today. I think the question, up for survey, boils down to this:
Does big change require being impetuous? Sure, there's the tortoise and the hare - a call for measured progress, to be sure. But all the big stuff in the movies begs another strategy. It boasts of high success rates with The Big Moment, the move or the words or the declaration which Changes Everything.
So what's your opinion? Which works better? Is it good that I'm re-reading old letters in my keepsake box, or should they have gone in the mail to rest contentedly in someone else's keepsake box or trashcan, as the case may be?
Who most often wins the day? Ben Franklin, or Samuel Goldwyn?

--Laura