January 31, 2019
There was a blank Word document staring me in the face this morning when I logged in. I opened it last evening, but I do not remember why. It seemed a shame to let it sit here totally bare, with naught to see but white space, so I am putting some words upon it, to decorate the place. (I could not help myself. I have been editing Lisa’s annual rhymed and metered book for Gus and Bug.) It is beginning to look a little less forlorn, and yet, in its purity, it held allure and a note of promise. I suppose it sort of relates to picking a house. You find the space, see its potential, and then you try to populate that space with items which please your eye and stimulate your mind. I am not going into a full exercise in descriptive detail here though. For that you can pull up chapter two of Harold’s Room. I got carried away. The version you see is highly edited, if you can imagine that.
I will say this; I am sitting in the space described in the subject chapter above, back right corner facing east out through the patio door into the feeding area. The monitor on the table at my right hand advises me it is currently 6.4 degrees Fahrenheit out there, where all things upon the landscape and in the woods are lightly blanketed with half an inch of sparkling snow cover. The monitor advises it is 54.5 degrees F here in Harold’s room. I have on my carpenter’s jeans and wide blue suspenders, my gray river driver’s shirt, gray socks, my Shy shredded moccasins (say that fast three times), my black wool sports car bonnet, and my red, white and black plaid insulated flannel shirt. The blue/gray Yeti coffee mug Lisa gave me is also by my right hand on the table next to my trackball. It is full of hot Gevalia Toraja. There is a 1.75 liter bottle of John Jameson on the floor against the wall, also by my right hand, in case the coffee is not sufficient to warm me. I came out here prepared.
The cats and I have been observing the denizens of the forest as they visit the various feeding stations. So far we have seen cardinals and house finches galore, dark-eyed juncos, titmice, nuthatches, robins, yellow-bellied woodpeckers, the damn-ed starlings who always appear in bad weather, and of course a few squirrels. We have not seen any blue jays, sparrows nor bluebirds yet today. I am surprised. Ah! There’s out first mourning dove. On days like this we all prefer to watch from inside, but Shy, Pretty Face, Bootsie and Tiny Terry could not bear it and have each run out there on one occasion “to get a closer look.” They all came right back in. I have not gone out there. There is enough black oil sunflower seed in the feeders for now, and my feet are already cold. Unfortunately I will need to go out there shortly, as the two squirrel feeders are approaching their critical levels, and the bird feeder levels are dropping rapidly.
My coffee cup has somehow gone empty, and I believe I need to turn on the ceiling fan to push some warm air down to floor level. I just turned on the small doorway fan betwixt and between the great room and Harold’s room. It is 72 in the main house. It’s always 72 in the main house. It’s about to go up to 74 for a short period of time. Bootsie just made her second reconnaissance run outside, so the one remaining squirrel left in a huff, chattering profanities at Bootsie as he departed. This is my opportunity to accomplish multiple tasks. I shall return!
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