Survival of the Fittest

 

I have opened up my wallet to just about every "squirrel proof," bird feeder sold in retail that is known to man, and to no avail.

  And after watching these furry, little, big toothed critters rocking violently back and forth on said "squirrel proof," bird feeders, or gnawing through feeders, and even metal chained covers, I have peacefully surrendered. 

   Now I just scatter the bird seeds on the side yard much like the bird lady in "Mary Poppins." I wait patiently inside.  I stand quietly in my bay window,  and I have my binoculars in hand.

   And like a viral Tik-Tok (only much more amazing) within minutes the secret is out.  The side yard begins to have tiny, winged visitors.  First there is just one, then two or three, and so on. It cannot be denied; there is free breakfast on Brookside Drive. 

   And so there they are; squirrel and wren, and an occasional Stellar Jay breaking bread together, and I am okay with that.

All Fur Love

   All my life we have had cats.  We have had great cats, mind you. Big fat, furry aloof puffs of furs that sun themselves lazily in the sun that pours through a sliding glass door. Cats that barely bat an eye at you  as you come in the door.

   Lucie our first dog couldn't be more different. I come home, I come in the door, and I call out.  I set down my book bag.  For a nano second there is dead silence. Then somewhere, faintly in the hallows of the house, I can hear a bell ringing faintly.  The jingle gets louder, as she loses her footing, skidding, on the hardwood floors, trying to make it to the door to greet me. 

Someone is glad that I am home.

Why Can't Adults Just Talk It Out?

 

   My third graders are disgusted with all the wars, pollution, waste and disregard for climate change.  They ask the big questions. I think that's why I thrive on being around them, and in this particular day and age, it's almost as necessary as breathing.  This month they are taking on the Elmer's Glue Company and their tiny little glue sticks that go straight in the landfill.  "Why would they even make a plastic that can't be recycled?"  How can you respond to an eight year old's logic? 

    As we wrote our Veteran letters in November, and I listed many wars/battles on the whiteboard to help the content in their personal letters, one third grader piped up, "Wow! That's a lot of wars, over a big amount of time.  Why can't adults just talk it out?"

   Indeed.

    

   

Black and White Photos

     Black and white pictures seem to depict an easier time.  Logically, I know it's not necessarily true but I  just can't explain it. They tell stories, they are full of so much information if an individual just took the time to really look hard at them.  The clothes, the cars, and the faces all exude an unexplainable calmness that seems almost foreign to our 21st century. 

    A black and white world might contain cocktails after work, kids riding their sting ray bikes until gets dark, families eating full course meals together,  or even a busy mother, stopping for just that moment,  to wipe her hands on her apron, and be frozen in time.

Detente

    From birth they were in each other's pockets, sharing toys, friends, and endless whispers in the backseat of the car. Then the dreaded adolescence befell them both, and suddenly the invisible wall that was erected between them seemed impenetrable. I didn't need to see his disgusted face, as he padded down the hall, and his footsteps instantly quickened past her door, as he tried to escape the pop music blaring from her room. In the same vein, I could also read her body language, as their conversations seemed to grow more forced, and monosyllabic.

    Her departure to college seemed almost like a relief for him, as if the nest had become too crowded, and he needed the space.

    Yet now since she has returned, back in her teenage room, and anxiously awaiting responses from internships the climate is oddly still, and cautious. Surprisingly, the fire and angst is gone between them. Instead, a new stage has emerged.  It's almost as if some kind of silent, hidden agreement has been made between them to cease fire.

   They are adults.