It was after dinner, lunch as they call it out here in the Southwest corner, a misnomer this ole Tennessee boy can accept because it’s 72 degrees with a 5 knot ocean breeze, 60% humidity, and there are no clouds.
i’m sitting in my home office after a Monday morning of medical checkups and other appointments trying to decide if i should plug ahead on several writing projects, take care of some adminstrivia (thank you, Dave Carey, for giving me such a great term for necessary busy work), or…taking a nap. Undoubtedly, i will end up taking a nap.
However, during my contemplating, i realize the air outside my air conditioned less window ( yep, don’t have air conditioning; don’t use the heaters except to knock off the chill for about two hours in the winter months, and…oh, i’ve bragged about that before), there is a cacophony of symphonies going on. It is not the neighbor young daughters in the pool with their music blaring. They don’t play a lot of Bach.
But this isn’t Bach. It’s goldfinches, mostly i think, a few mourning doves, a couple of which are nesting in our eaves; there seems to be black phoebes joining in along with a California Towhee, and a song sparrow or two. i really don’t know. i am in no way an ornithologist. i stole these from a Google search. But i do know the finches call, and i do know and love the doves cooing. And for some reason, the multiple crows and ravens (someday i will figure out the difference; we have them both) seem to be silenced during this allegro.
As i sit here listening, i am taken back home. Summers. Robins, bluebirds, sparrows, mockingbirds (oh, i long for the mockingbird trill). Mornings. Filled with the sounds of birds. Songs of the heart.
The world as it should be. Back home then or in the Southwest corner now.