Saturday, April 18, 2009

Birds and other Words

Saturday AM, the air is cooler out than in. I shut off the A/C and opened my bedroom window. I popped the thermometer in my mouth and set the timer on my phone. 3 minutes and no fever. My throat felt like it had a knife lodged in it. I lay in bed listening to the cardinals and the mockingbirds. I believe that God is a bird. (I also believe that God is a rose). Their song is so pure, so genuine and brings unending comfort. I fiddled with my BB, answered a few e-mails from the town attorney about pressing business that I missed at work yesterday and need to face first thing monday. Then she asked me why I was working today. I responded that I might ask the same of her. I began coughing intermittently which managed to break up the pressure in my chest. (The elephant may now only be cow). Gracie was impatient with my laziness, so I got up, threw some clothes on and took her out.

What a beautiful day! The ususal neighbors were doing their morning rituals. I put Gracie on the line and began to check on the seedlings I'd sown recently for basil, alyssum and love lies bleeding (amaranthus - which I bought at Butchart Gardens last year). They are doing well. I gave them a good shot from the spray bottle. It seemed a good time to water, starting with the bougainvillea, then the mexican petunia, plumbago, the palms, the franigpanis and the rose bushes. I brought Gracie inside, and put a pot of water on the stove to boil. (still under a boil water notice). I picked up my cell phone and noticed a missed call. (s*&t...from the boss).

I immediately called him back. He'd gotten a call from a councilmember: the boil water notice dropped off the website - it needs to be up there - the media is instructing everyone to watch the web. Yes indeedy, boss - right away.

I fed Gracie, gave her water and fixed myself a cup of hot water with lemon and honey - oh that felt good on the throat! and sat down to update the web. Gracie began ripping apart the door jam, wanting to go out. I cursed - we've just been out!! She kept it up, and managed to totally guilt me. She's just eaten, maybe she does need to do 'bizniss'. All patience lost, I put her on the line and came back in.

As I was updating the web, my phone rang. It was the deputy public works director, did I get the boss's message? could I do the update, or did we need to call in one of her staff members?
I'm all over it, give me a few minutes. Then I heard rapid footsteps on the stairs out front, and then a knock on the door. I opened it and it was Lucky's "mom" next door: "Your 'daughter' broke her line again.." I cursed, thanked her and hastened out to the side yard. Gracie was all over Lucky (a 100+ lb Rott) and had managed to completely pull down the 100' line that Brother Ken installed. She'd done it, now... I 'reeled' her in, thanked Nicole again, and brought Gracie inside.

Back at the computer, I finished the update. My cell rang again. (I cursed). Looks like you've performed magic.. Deputy Director said. (dang, were they watching me like a hawk!?!) I called the boss, told him we were good, explained what went wrong. I fixed another cup of lemon and honey tea. My chest is loosening up quite nicely and although I sound worse than Kermit, my throat is easing as well.

The little birds are singing, merrily and well to the delight of 'Shell, and all her tinkling bells.
( Oh if only I could write like Lewis Carroll !)

Little Birds

Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters -I've a Tale to tell.

Little Birds are feeding
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters -
That is what I am.

Little Birds are teaching
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile
Smile, I say, not smirkle -Mouth a semicircle,
That's the proper style!

Little Birds are sleeping
All among the pins,
Where the loser wins
Where, I say, he sneezes,
When and how he pleases -So the Tale begins.

Little Birds are writing
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks
Read, I say, not roasted -Letterpress, when toasted,
Loses its good looks.

Little Birds are playing
Bagpipes on the shore,
Where the tourists snore
"Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling!
Take, oh take this shilling!
Let us have no more!"

Little Birds are bathing
Crocodiles in cream,
Like a happy dream
Like, but not so lasting -Crocodiles, when fasting,
Are not all they seem!

Little Birds are choking
Baronets with bun,
Taught to fire a gun
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter -Merely for the fun.

Little Birds are hiding
Crimes in carpet-bags,
Blessed by happy stags
Blessed, I say, though beaten -Since our friends are eaten
When the memory flags.

Little Birds are tasting
Gratitude and gold,
Pale with sudden cold
Pale, I say, and wrinkled -When the bells have tinkled,
And the Tale is told.

Lewis Carroll

No comments: