Posted tagged ‘bird feeders’
August 30, 2014
During the night I was so cold I got up and put on socks. By getting out of bed I disrupted Fern and Gracie who were huddled beside me. It seems we were all cold. An afghan solved my problem and I quickly got cozy and warm. Fern and Gracie each took a side, leaned against me, got comfortable and went back to sleep. That is the last thing I remember.
Today is one of those blank slate days when my memory drawer is closed tightly and can’t be opened. This second paragraph has had several lives, and each was erased when the trail led nowhere. I’m sort of stuck. I filled the bird feeders hoping a change of scenery would bring memories and random thoughts tumbling out of my head. It didn’t. I came back inside, sat here for a while then went upstairs and made my bed. Aside from my bedroom looking neater, nothing was accomplished, nothing came to mind. I then changed the litter boxes not really expecting any sort of memory flood but the boxes needed to be changed. I figured why not. I was upstairs anyway. I came back downstairs and am now in the same spot I have been most of the morning. I’m thinking next I’ll put the litter in the trunk for Monday’s dump run. Maybe the front yard will be a source for inspiration. If not, at least I did a lot of chores.
I caught the litter bag on the screen door and tore open a small hole. I didn’t know until I got to the car and saw a pile of litter beginning to form. Looking behind me I saw a trail of litter Hansel and Gretel would have had no trouble following. Luckily I use pine litter, not clay, so I don’t have to do any sweeping. It will become mulch. That was one exciting trip to the trunk.
I was always a kid with a great imagination who believed in fairies and gnomes and elves. Witches scared me. I think the witch in Snow White was the reason. She was diabolical. For a long time I thought any woman with a wart on her face was a witch. When we saw the movie we were really young, and my mother said my brother hid under the seat whenever the witch was on the screen. I watched. He wasn’t a brave kid. Even Santa scared him.
When we moved to South Yarmouth, the woman who lived next door had a few warts on her face. I had never forgotten about witches thanks to the one with the apple and the wart on her nose; however, I had long ago realized they weren’t real, but after meeting the neighbor and getting to know her, I had to reconsider.
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: bird feeders, cold night, elves, fairies, gnomes, litter boxes, making the bed, memory block, pine litter, warm afghan, warts on faces, witches
Comments: 12 Comments
August 11, 2014
This morning I have already cleaned off the deck and filled the bird feeders. I also tried again to attach the fronds to my new palm tree, but they are just too heavy for me to hold with one hand and attach with the other. I’ll have to wait until Thursday when Lee and Roseana come to clean. Lee is always happy to help.
If you want to know the weather, check yesterday’s Coffee because it is the same today, the same gorgeous day. I see a deck day, and I also see a dump run as I have already loaded the car. Gracie will be glad. Weekends are no longer dump days as the traffic is lined up along the street to the dump and inside is a mad house. Mondays are quiet.
My front garden is beautiful so I’ll try to take some pictures today. I always wanted a garden filled with flowers, and this garden is exactly what I dreamed. Not being a gardener, it was hit or miss with the flowers I chose, but I did well. I noticed some bare spots and a bush is going to be moved this fall so next year I get to buy more flowers, perennials in the front. I’ll do a bit of research first then make my list. Some I may have to get on-line as rare flowers aren’t at the local garden shops. People tend to buy the familiar.
We never came down the cape when I was a kid. All our vacations were in Maine or Vermont. On weekends we went to local beaches on the North Shore. When I was really young, we went to Revere Beach. I remember aunts and uncles and cousins being there with us as well. I also remember the adults would take turns. Some would watch us while others would run across the street for a drink or two. Revere Beach back then had all sorts of food booths, bars, arcade games and rides. We kids never left the beach. There was always plenty to eat and drink from the various baskets. We’d whine and ask to go on a ride, but I can’t remember ever taking one though maybe we rode the merry-go-round, but that is a hazy memory at best.
When I was in high school, my friends and I would go to Revere Beach on a Friday or Saturday night. We’d buy sausage subs with peppers and onions and eat them as we walked along the boardwalk. We rode the roller coaster. I remember that roller coaster more than any other ride because when I was young I could see the top of the coaster from the highway on the way to visit my grandparents. It was a sign post of sorts as to where we were. I loved that old wooden coaster. I remember the anticipation and maybe a little fear as the roller coaster slowly climbed that first hill. I remember the sounds of the coaster. It made squealing noises around corners, the wheels clicked on the track for the whole ride and people always screamed, especially down that first hill. The brave ones didn’t hold on but raised both arms in the air in a show of bravado. I wasn’t one of them. I always held on.
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Categories: Musings
Tags: arms in the air, beaches, bird feeders, clicking wheels, down hills, dump day, flowers, front garden, gorgeous day, palm tree, perennials, rare flowers, Revere Beach, Roller coaster
Comments: 18 Comments
July 10, 2014
Yesterday was a sweat producing day, a day for the air-conditioner which was on all afternoon and night, but I turned it off this morning though it is still a bit warm. It’s just that the mornings are so lovely I hate to miss them sitting behind closed doors and windows. Right now there is a little breeze from the window behind me, the birds are singing and the neighborhood is gloriously quiet as if I’m alone in the world. I like that feeling sometimes. Last night it rained, but I didn’t hear it. Today might reach 80˚ but it will drop to the 60’s tonight. Tomorrow’s forecast has the nighttime temperature at 59˚. That sounds delightful.
My energy comes in spurts sometimes dictated by my back. Yesterday my sole accomplishments were to re-set the flag holder and screw in the hook off the deck which holds a bird feeder. Both were victims of the wind. The bird feeder had been filled but it fell to the ground and was emptied. I’m thinking the spawns had a picnic. Now that the hook is fixed I’ll go and retrieve the items which fell off the deck and refill the feeder. I am already on my second load of laundry, and I have to go buy Gracie food and drop a few things off at the dump. That, for me, is quite the busy day.
My sisters used to give my mother dandelion bouquets. She’d act thrilled as if she had been given the rarest flowers. She’d put the bouquet in a jelly glass and then in the middle of the table. The dandelions were brilliant yellow and didn’t seem at all like a weed should be.
My father always got two weeks’ vacation, and he took them in the summer. Most of the time we didn’t go away as it was too expensive though I do remember the trip to the island in Maine and the Niagara falls trip, but that’s it; instead, we’d go places close to home. I remember going to the beach on weekdays when the traffic was light, and there were parking spaces near the water. We’d stay most of the day. A couple of nights we’d go to the drive-in. Sometimes we’d go to Maine for a weekend and stay at my father’s friend’s cottage. I always found that boring. The water was too cold, and there was little to do. The museum trips were my favorite. I remember standing in the Egyptian section at the MFA and marveling at how tall the sarcophagi were. I still get that feeling when I visit the MFA even now. Once during the two weeks we’d go out to dinner, a rare occasion for us. We’d go to Kitty’s where the food was cheap and plentiful. It never occurred to me that we didn’t have enough money to go away. I never felt deprived, and I loved being surprised by every day.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Air conditioner, bird feeders, bird song, breeze, dandelion, dandelions, Laundry, mornings, Niagara Falls, stay at home vacations, sweat, the dump, Wind
Comments: 11 Comments
June 27, 2014
The house is chilly. Last night was in the 50’s, and it will be again tonight. Today will be in the 70’s. If I could invent the perfect summer day, it would be like today, warm during the day and cool at night for sleeping.
The sun is gloriously bright and the red umbrellas on the deck pop in the light. Yesterday afternoon I put out my oriole feeders and late in the afternoon the female oriole arrived and had some grape jelly, left then came back a couple of times. I hope next time she brings her mate. The male oriole is one of the prettiest birds around here. Today I have to fill my suet feeder and my squirrel buster feeder which keeps the grey spawns away but doesn’t deter the red spawns or the chipmunks, as both are too lightweight to trigger the feeder so I now have my own way of getting rid of them. I keep my hose on the deck, put the nozzle on jet and spray them. They run really fast when the water hits them.
Some things just drive me crazy. I’ll start with people who don’t use their blinkers and people who leave their blinkers on the whole time. When the non-blinker turns onto the street where I had been waiting, I throw my arms up in frustration. Why did the driver think I was sitting there? Is there a parade coming? The constant click click click of the blinker should be a hint, but it isn’t. The car passes street after street and doesn’t turn and the blinker blinks. People who park and take up one and half spaces, especially this time of year, make me want to leave a nasty note on the windshield. Drivers ignoring one way signs is another pet peeve of mine. The place where I shop has a one way in and a one way out. Many drivers decide they are only going one way, the arrows notwithstanding. I got yelled at the other day for being in the middle of the road. The car with the yelling driver was going the wrong way. I rolled down my window and told the guy the street was one way, not his one way but mine. He still yelled.
It is usually quite difficult to merge across two lanes on busy streets here during the summer. A car can sit for a long while hoping for a break in traffic. A lot of cars don’t stop to let the waiting car out. I don’t get it. Would that minute it takes to let the car out cause them to miss a plane, a wedding or some other huge event? When a driver lets me out, I always wave and say thank you acknowledging their kindness. I let cars out often. Many wave and many ignore me. The other day I let a woman out into heavy traffic which would have kept her waiting a while. She didn’t acknowledge me. I said you’re welcome out my window. She heard me and gave me a look which could wither flowers. I didn’t get it. Being courteous is simple and doesn’t take a whole lot of effort. I smiled at her and drove away.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bad drivers, bird feeders, blinkers, hose and nozzle, lovely days, orioles, simple courtesy, Suet
Comments: 12 Comments
March 27, 2014
The storm was terrific. The snow fell sideways because of the close to hurricane force wind. Tree limbs were blown and bent. The bird feeders flew from to side to side, sometimes even with birds holding on for dear life. The snow drifted. Some spots had little or no snow while others had deep snow, the sort where you lift your legs high above the drift instead of trying to plow your way through. I couldn’t see beyond the house across the street because of white-out conditions. Gracie went out in the morning without fuss but hurried inside when she was done. The second time she went out the snow was still falling but was tapering. She squatted with her back to the gate which was a good thing because the gate behind her slowly opened. I ran down the steps which were covered in snow while holding on to the rail also covered in snow. I don’t know why I didn’t fall as it seemed perfect for a dive off the steps; instead, I shut the gate before Gracie even knew it was open. She turned and looked at me then went farther into the backyard. I climbed up the snowy steps and got back into the house. My slippers were so covered in snow you couldn’t tell what they were. My socks had snow clinging to them, and my pants were soaked from the bottom almost to the knees. My hands were freezing, but I didn’t care. Gracie was still in the yard.
By last night the snow had tapered to a few errant flakes, but the wind continued to blow and whistle. I fell asleep to the sound. It was tremendous.
Winter is not leaving easily. It is scratching and pawing the ground trying to keep a handhold. Yesterday was a day in January. Schools were closed. Cars stayed off the roads. I was drawn, as I am when it snows, to the back door to watch the storm. I listened to the wind and saw the trees bend left then right then back again. It was an amazing storm. It was spectacular.
Categories: Musings
Tags: amazing storm, bird feeders, Cape C od strom, drifts, hurricane force wind, snow storm, swaying branches, whistling wind, white-out
Comments: 18 Comments
March 16, 2014
This morning I filled the four sunflower feeders, and the spawn came back, the red one which jumps from the rail to the feeder over and over again. I chased it away, but it will be back. It always is. I thought about ways to encourage the spawn to pack its little bags and move elsewhere. I came up with a slingshot flinging paperclips, a pea shooter, a wire covering the food slots, electrifying the rail from where it jumps and a wee guillotine though I did reject that last one but only after giving it some consideration. I’m thinking the wire might be the best choice only because my aim with the slingshot and pea shooter mightn’t be up to the task.
The day is a pretty one. I found some more croci in the garden. Three of them are open and basking in the sun. I also saw a snowdrop, a lovely and delicate flower, by the stairs. The hyacinths are getting taller, and I can see their buds. It may only be 34˚ but it feels like spring to me. Flowers carry hope about them.
The mornings are noisier now. The birds have started greeting the day. Their songs are most welcome sounds.
In the church I attended in my hometown, there was a tiny pew in the back. It was the last one in the church and held only two people. I used to wonder why it was there and eventually decided they ran out of space but wanted balance at the end of the rows instead of a weird bare spot. I loved that pew and thought of it as the pew of the impious. I always sat, stood or knelt when everyone else did, but I never paid attention. Sometimes I sneaked in a book and read the latest adventures of Trixie Beldon. I tried to look saintly and reverent with my head bowed, and because all the people were in front of me and couldn’t see what I was reading, I think I pulled it off. When the ushers came by with their baskets, the book was hidden. I dropped my dime in the basket, waited for the usher to move along and then went back to my book. Mass went quickly when I was otherwise preoccupied so it was often a surprise when the priest said, “The Mass is ended go with God.” I took him at his word and scooted out the door and down the stairs. I was probably close to halfway home before the church had even emptied. I never minded going to mass when I had a good book to keep me company.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, bird songs, Crocus, Mass, out the door, pea shooter, reading books in church], slingshot, snowdrops, spawn of satan, springlike, sunflower seeds, tiny pew, ushers
Comments: 10 Comments
March 11, 2014
The best part of today is the warmth. It is already 51˚, a heat wave of sorts. I was on the deck earlier filling the sunflower feeders and the air smelled fresh so I lingered a while. Gracie lingered with me, postponing her morning nap until she could follow me in the house. We both came in and Gracie is now sleeping quite soundly on the couch beside me. The day doesn’t look at all inviting, but I can’t let 51˚ go to waste so we’ll go out and ride a bit. I never know what adventures I might have.
When I go to my childhood home town, I take familiar routes. I go by my old elementary school still standing strong after over 100 years. The windows are new and look strikingly white against the old brick. The convent that used to be across the street was bought, torn down and replaced by condos. I wonder what happened to the angel statue which used to stand on the convent’s lawn. My eighth grade picture was taken on that lawn in front of the statue and the top part of convent could be seen in the background. When I continue driving down the street, I take note of all the differences. I knew every house that used to be on that route and I name them as I drive by where they once stood. On the corner was a two-decker, but I didn’t know who lived there. The Brophy’s lived in the next house down, and the Seventh Day Adventists who ran a bakery for a while lived in a really old house a couple down from the Brophy’s. The old lady whose walk I shoveled lived in the red house. I drive by where the tracks once were, and if no cars are behind me, I stop and look down both sides. I know the tracks on the left used to go by the old factories, across Main Street to where the corner store stood, by the gatekeepers house then they continued, but I never knew to where. The tracks on the right led to the old station house and then ended, but there was a turnaround so the train could go back from where it came. My old street hasn’t changed at all. The same houses are there going up both sides of the hill. At my old house, the only differences I see are the trees are even taller than the house, and the lawn needs care. I pause on the street and close my eyes. I can see every room in my mind’s eye, and I remember where the furniture was placed and how small a kitchen it was. I wonder about the in-ground garbage can in the back. It’s probably still there, but nobody collects garbage anymore. I finish my trip back in time and continue driving on to my sister’s house. It’s always nice to visit and stir my memories.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 51˚, bird feeders, cloudy day, memories, my old house, old hometown, remembering houses, roaming familiar streets, small kitchen, tall trees
Comments: 15 Comments
February 18, 2014
Another cold, grey day dawned this morning. I trudged through snow on the deck and filled the feeders. The branches from the big tree have dropped some snow so they no longer rest on the deck. The palm tree will need replacing, but I’ll wait for warm weather, could be July as we have more snow coming today.
When I came downstairs, I could hear a drop and another drop, a series of drops. I found the spot. It wasn’t all that difficult to find. The ceiling has water marks so something in the upstairs bathroom leaked during the night and is still leaking. My plumber wasn’t there, but I did leave a message. The last time something like this happened he had to open the ceiling to get at the pipes. I figure he’ll do the same thing only it will be a bigger hole. Problems like this make me feel helpless as I can do nothing except move stuff from under the leak and put down rags. I get the same helpless feeling with electrical problems. A stain on a shirt? I’m a whiz. A mark on a table? I can make it magically disappear, but a leak, a drip, sends me reeling. I just noticed the spots together look a bit like a shark. It’s probably symbolic.
My house has a fairly new furnace and hot water burner, a six-year-old roof, double paned windows, siding on the front and new shingles on the other three sides. I know some of you call them shakes, but they aren’t. They’re shingles. I told someone that, and he asked if I didn’t mean shakes. I thought they were the same, but they’re not. I looked up the difference and found shingles are milled more precisely than shakes which tend to be irregular and don’t lay as flat when installed. This creates gaps which can be penetrated by wind-blown snow or rain. When I say shingles and someone tries to correct me and asks if I don’t mean shakes. I’ll tell them no. My house has shingles. So there!
I believe the plumbing problem has had an effect on my mood and not for the better.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, dead palm tree, grey day, plumbing leak, ruined ceiling, shark outline, water marks
Comments: 22 Comments
February 13, 2014
When I woke up, I could hear the rain falling on the roof and dripping on the deck. It’s a steady rain, a good rain, and I love a rainy day. My house is dark except for the light here in the den. It seems to brighten every corner of the room. I have always felt somehow comforted by the rain. It surrounds me and fills my ears with a different melody every time. I remember in elementary school I loved to watch the rain dripping down the windows. Though no one spoke, the classroom was never quiet. I could hear the shuffling of papers, the turning of book pages and the rain. I felt warm and safe. After school, I’d get home, take off my wet clothes, put on my pajamas and read in bed. It was the nicest of afternoons.
Yesterday I filled the bird feeders, and the birds are taking full advantage of the seeds. I even filled an extra feeder for the chickadees who are outnumbered by the gold finches who seem to be at all the other feeders and don’t share well. The finches don’t like the different feeder I filled, but the chickadees do. In the afternoon, from my kitchen window, I watched the red spawn jump from the deck rail to the feeder, grab a seed then fall back to the rail to dine. I went outside in stealth mode hoping to scare it again, but it ran. Later I watched a fat gray spawn walking on the rail and closing in on where the red spawn was standing. I waited as the grey spawn got closer and closer. Sure enough, that red spawn went after the grey one which took off in a heartbeat despite its superiority in size. The red spawn is evil.
Last night around 12:30, I let Gracie out for the last time before bed. She took off like a shot. I knew she had either heard or seen something. I stood on the deck and watched as she ran a few times around a tree in the yard. I could hear her sniffing. I called and was ignored. Then she took off and ran the perimeter of the yard along the fence. I lost track of her so I gingerly went down the steps which are, for the most part, free of ice. I, of course, found the one spot which wasn’t, and my leg went though the space between the stairs. Luckily I wasn’t hurt and was able to get my leg back on the step. Finally I managed to get to the ground and stood on a spot free of ice. I located Gracie at the opposite side of the yard. I yelled for her and offered treats. She came running at full force, ran up the steps and into the house leaving me in the dust. I went upstairs gingerly and went inside. She was waiting patiently by her crate for her treat. I still wonder what it was that attracted her attention. Luckily she never found it and luckily I made it safely back into the house limbs intact.
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, dark day, icy steps, late at night, melody of the rain, noise in the yard, rain, red and grey spawns of Satan
Comments: 8 Comments
February 1, 2014
This morning is already 41˚. That’s a hot spell, time for sunscreen. Gracie, my weather barometer, has been outside pretty much the whole morning. She comes in every now and then for water and to make sure I’m still here.
The feeders have lots of different birds today, even mourning doves and winter robins. Hopeful is the best description for a day like today. It’s nature’s way of reminding us that winter won’t last forever. There will be more snow, that’s inevitable, and chilling to the bone temperatures but soon enough every day will be in the 40’s and then the 50’s then climbing from there. Green shoots will start appearing in the front garden by the end of this month and will become a calendar of sorts. As they grow taller, we’ll be closer to spring. Once they bloom color fills the garden and spring finally gains hold. The air gets that smell of freshness, of growing things, of flowers and grass. Cold mornings give way to warmer afternoons. Some vestiges of winter hang around for a bit longer but that’s okay. I always think of them as a last gasp.
This has been a strange week. Little holds my interest, not even books I usually devour. I won’t even mention television. I haven’t seen anyone to talk to since Sunday; I don’t count the man at the dump or the woman at the pharmacy. We didn’t converse. I could be the main character in a last person on Earth book, soon to be made into a major movie. In my empty world, there would be no vampires or zombies running around trying to drink my blood or eat my entrails. I imagine blue birds singing and flying above my head sort of like in Song of the South or Cinderella. Flowers are always in bloom. The sun shines, and the day is perfect in the 70’s. Yup, I’m living in a Disney movie. I don’t know, though, how long I can go without people and conversation, but I figure I’d be talking to myself a whole lot, but I do that now. I usually direct my comments to Gracie who listens with a cocked ear but doesn’t ever answer. She’d be in the book too. I do have an ending for this book. There I am surrounded by blue birds, my faithful dog by my side as I walk through the park. All of a sudden I hear someone whistling a tune, yup, a happy tune. I stop and gasp, my hand in front of my mouth, and say,”Hello?” I hear, “Hello” right back, and it isn’t an echo. I am not alone. It’s a happy ending.
Now you can understand I really need to get out more!
Categories: Musings
Tags: bird feeders, blue birds, boredom, colors, Disney movie, ennui, green shoots, hopeful weather, last woman on Earth, spring is coming, talking to myself, vampires and zombies, warm day
Comments: 23 Comments
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