A Notch in the Fence

This morning the gang of Acorn Woodpeckers arrive and the disparaging Morning Doves(Instead of Mourning Doves) and a jamboree begins. I put, along with some seed, leftover watermelon and softer berries on the fence and the birds and of course, squirrels feast.

I am thinking about adaptability and invention. Many people admire cleverness and right now there is a focus on simple efficiency since so much of the time there are lines to get into stores and the ordering of supplies. I like when people talk to each other in line at a distance and since the request is that we not go into a venue with friends, as a couple or five children people seem a bit more vulnerable and aware of those around them then the safety of their group.

There are exceptions to the single file approach to entering a store based on need and help that is available for single parents with children and those who need assistance but thus far I see few taking advantage of the situation and others moving aside so it will work for them to enter like a bird with her young hovering close to her.

Watching the birds as they move in and out of their groups is always entertaining. The Dove fluffs up to let the Jay know that she needs space but sat times there is a bookend of two Jays and a Dove in the center and they feed accordingly from the outside in and the inside safely pecking in a thickly seeded spot. There are very large Banded Pigeons that come at the end to clean things off but the small birds have staked their claim on their seed for the morning ahead of time.

I have been staring at this fence and the birds intently for years now but today is the first time I realize that one Acorn Woodpecker has been using a notch in the fence to set his sunflower seed in and crack it open. The notch is curved like a slither of the moon and just enough level area in the center to both set and wedge the seed there. I pick up the shells and toss them into a bin and leave the millet for the Junco that comes and collects quite a bit of it each day.

As I forage through life right now I try and learn how to ease into various situations and how to tuck small amounts of supplies in our studio so that they fit in each nook and cranny. We do not have a garage to stockpile supplies and not sure I want to and when I see there is not a lot of  one kind of food or item I take one or two at the most and come back the next time and usually I can find what I need for the next several days.

I appreciate the lessons of the birds reminding me that each small notch can hold food, play or life on any given day. A bird can peek through the hole or hang upside down from it, a small item can rest there for pick up or to be divided and conquered for a meal. It is amazing how they use space so deftly and considerately. They are not cluttered with too many ideas and when fear arises it is a quick response that is over and done in a split second and then back to their life.

 

 

The Day Never Arrived

Today the caution yellow tape the surrounded the park above the beach is down but it is foggy.  Our sunny Easter passed and today ironically it is cold and dank. People are out  on the sand and some surfers. As we walk along the cliff and the railroad tracks I see the birds have moved up the beach again. For a while they had the beach to themselves.

The inversion layer seems to turn everything to sleep mode, and today the sun made a brief appearance at 6pm.  The day did not arrive. Oona dog comes bounding into the house and throws up some grass and kibbles right when the light is bright so I miss that five minute visit from the sun but watch the gold light filter outside as birds pick bits off of our bouquet of a apple tree. The branches have tiny corsages like a high school wrist band for a prom. The pink is soft and velvety and tiny petals land on the porch as they flutter to the ground.

I open a box today that has a fox image on it and inside it is filled with a small nest I found right after Lupine died. I recall the amazement of looking at the tree she would sit under and see this white and red furred nest with some other bits woven into it just two weeks after her death and I was wondering where she was right then.

Today I took the nest out and on a branch that is sharp and poking up I poke it through so it held there. The pair of chickadees make quick use of it in their nest box and leave what they do not need or want behind. Like a fortune cookie the message seems to be that it might be a great thing to follow suit with their selection process around the use of the nest and do the same with our lives. Make use of what we can use well and leave the rest behind.

 

 

 

The Hills of New Mexico

I lived in New Mexico for several years and am back to California for the last four. I love when time and space bring place and person back to right now. I think of the hills that my friend and I walked upon, and how agile she is hiking. Also I recall her attention to my dog, Lupine, a very wild dog who developed cancer when my friend is really more of a cat person touches me.

When Lupine was struggling mouth cancer I would come and sit outside of her office where she had her practice with her fine healing hands working on me and others, and wait. When she there is a break she came, out and gave that same healing touch to Lupine. My dog would go to sleep which is not her usual fare with people sitting in the back seat with her but she was responsive to my friend’s energy and touch. We did that with my Lupine for several weeks until it was much harder to do.

Today in the sunny car, my phone booth outside of the studio, we talk about everything from remodeling to what it means to do anything at this time in history. Nether of us are good at the Zoom concept of relating and working and this leads into how else to hold life and what moves us to do what we do as individuals. I am sure many people are having the same experience and feelings about their future.

Working in art with a focus on community and the environment is vitally important on my own, and yet each project has been a collaboration and not executed online. I am quite sure creating AI substitutes rather then just people to people is not the same. I think of the child handing me a piece of art or an idea for our performance and we examine it together, or a young girl asking you if you could please read what she wrote for the play and stand close as you read it for her.

We need each other to live our lives and to evolve day in and day out in our process of relating together. It is not easy at times but it is what shapes life.

 

 

Old Birdhouse

There are two old birdhouses that Jim and I put up for swallows that used to land on our fence but they never used them. One day I took them down and leaned them against the truck of the equally old apple tree that is now in bloom. One limb of this tree broke off but a part remained attached and it is propped up right under the houses.

This morning I saw two birds flitting quickly in and out of the birdhouse. I realized they are Black Capped Chickadees. Arriving home this evening and at dinner they move in and out of the house so quickly that a blink is too slow. They are carrying bits of things into the house and I cannot tell if it is food or nest material. I  think it is the latter. I feel in a quandary about their claiming the house as a nesting site. I love seeing them but I am very concerned that the mice or rats will kill their baby or eat their eggs. I am not sure if I should move the box but I am sure it is best to let them just be.

The other morning our neighbors had their first home delivery of produce and a mouse before they retrieved their goods went into the handle of the box and ate some bread and carrots. The hole on the bird house is not too small for a mouse to enter.

Chickadees seem tough and so fast I assume they can handle anything and my husband watched the pair chase off a squirrel earlier in the day. My dog could jump up and disturb them or the other bigger birds that are in the area from hawks to woodpeckers and of course jays. But Chickadees seem to be leaders and I understand in the bird world because they are so adaptable  in how they find food that other birds watch them to find more creative options themselves from their efforts.

Right now we are seeing a flood of creative options to work on line. I wonder if we will ever leave home again. But like the birds we will fledge and step out into the world. Our house is a low rent district for these birds but the fact that they can make it work in their little studio reminds me we are doing the same the three of us counting our petite but very deep throat-ed husky.

 

 

 

My Little Runaway

Most of the day Oona has been wild. As we head off to the beach she is eager to take in everything. Down at the beach I find a dead sting ray and dead birds along the shore. It feels like the pull of the moon to the dark side.

At home I listen to a talk on Zoom about the pandemic and systems theory. The four speakers are quick minded reeling off theories and ideas some of which give a new angle. Part way through their electric conversation I begin to miss just the wind, sky and it’s stories. I am weighted by all the input that at first is thrilling but then too much. I am also sad that Bernie Sanders is out of the race he seems so spot on about what we really need in our nation.

An email arrives from a Doctor, more alternative in her practice and she is going over the doom and gloom of being on a ventilator and important to create a directive if we do not want this for ourselves, and all I can think about is my dog. I want her to be taken care of, someone that wants to put coconut oil on her and not shove a pesticide pill down her to ease her in flea season but also someone that is okay with her wild back talking nature.

I worry a lot about animals since I feel people will fall over themselves and get back up but a dog that is running frantically on a busy street may not have that same option. Tonight is that kind of night, my dog is running loose and running in front of traffic. I signal in the road and point to my dog and the cars slow down as I turn into a driveway to get her.

The adventure begins because my husband is a bit tipsy and his reaction time dealing with the gate and our dog ends in her flying out and  heading up the street. Two men on the block try to help yet she heads for the road and I get in the car and drive to the right and the left on the busy road slowly trying to entice her to jump back into the car.

Eventually she does go to the car on her own as I am looking in the back yard of a house I think she has entered and we drive back home. I am calm and really the whole time it is going on I am slowed down but moving fast. I have felt that way quite a bit during this time.

I did a small film about walks during quarantine  about taking in the space around me and the people along the way, the birds but in this kind of dream. I am in slow motion as my dog is running full tilt and almost out of touch with her freedom. I am so grateful she saw the car as a refuge, a place to stop running and to go home.

This is an odd sight to come across but the day was so gray at the beach that when I found what I thought was a palm frond and realized it was a dead and drying sting ray it fit the scene. The face is very strange, grimacing and mournful. As I walk on there are many dead birds on the shore and I feel how life is so fragile.

It is the eve of my birthday and I hear the owls, the super moon is bright and the coyotes sound abundant and clear. My phone says my storage is full but it is not I have lots of room but it is just another glitch in this odd day of events, sights and feelings.

My step-son calls from Ecuador on Facetime. He is busy making sanitizer for people in his town, and has a distillery where he makes agave tequila with a group of indigenous women.  It is easy for him to have alcohol for the product and back off on the tequila. He is adept at quick ideas and has strong ideals mixed with his own particularly bright logic. My husband listens and laughs with joy hearing  his voice and I know hopes his son and his partner are safe as all this unfolds. His son has a husky dog too that can roam the hills and run free and I am sure Oona would like to do the same. She certainly gave it her best tonight in our hood.

Mask

My neighbor has a friend that sews and she made all of us  face masks. When we put them on our dog wants to investigate, and wants one hers self. My husband gives her a coffee filter mask and she wears it and chews it up for good measure.

Oona dog’s life is measured in play, naps and food. Actually the food is much lower on the list then the play. If she wants food she eats a bit and then grabs her toy for one of us to throw and then she goes back to the dish and takes more food. She knows how to use her energy, digest and keep the calorie count balanced with exercise.

Everyday I watch her tour our neighborhood as we walk some of the same places. Every time we go out in our hood there is a new landscape she opens up for us. How much we can miss in the habitual way we relate to our surroundings but for Oona that is not an option.

Skies always do challenge the assumptions we may harbor about change but even when I look at a photo of the same sunset at our cliff  when I look close there is a shimmer of light that is different I know is unique for the viewer: is their sunset and also our sunset.

Our apple tree has gone from a gray dry tree to soft pink blossoms  with tiny buds and fine green leaves. I shoo the squirrels off the tree this time of year since they will eat the new green leaves. Oona dog has done a great job of sending them back up the tree much better then myself so our tree is filled with flowers.

The day is moving from sunny skies to a soft grey as the birds shelter for the rain coming our way. I hear the whirligig sound of dove’s wings, the sing song of the Robin and the high voice of the Oak Titmouse. Earlier the Red-Shouldered Hawks carried branches and talked to one another in more strident voices. Other sounds are muted by the wind building up as the damp drops fall on the soil. The owls likely will come out early and busy themselves with their owlet on the dusky hunt.

Up our street there is a man living in his car most of the day. He is a friend of a neighbor I think is staying there during this time but stays in his car and listens to music the whole day. He smokes a bit and smiles each time we walk by. No one disturbs him.

There is an acceptance of his presence on my part. I know he trimmed the one hundred year old redwood he is under with his crew and maybe that is some part time rent for his transient life on our block. I have not asked.

Each day feels tentative more then before for all our lives but it measured by tasks and creative projects along with the voices of those we love. It is my father’s birthday today he would be surprised at life right now if he were still alive. But what I know about my father is he would always love the gifts of the month of his birth, the same as mine. Two wild Aires.

 

 

 

 

Empty Shelves and Sunshine

The stores remain empty of many simple things that are comforts for our lives. The larger markets have the least and the smallest seem to have a small stock of things they ration out to each person. Today the sun gave to everyone as the landscape is filled with warm soft leaves, flowers bursting forth. In our own yard a amaryllis has doubled itself with two trumpet horn flowers surrounded by two peeled back flowers moving forcefully up the center. The arrangement they have made is enticing and compact.

I have been having collective dreams with story within story and like the flowers the dreams feel collected and precise as they move through the night. My waking life is enhanced by the messages that begin my day with dream stories while my body wants to clear poison out of my system that is evident in the atmosphere.

A man has died today in our local hospital. They fold up his belongings and clear the room of grief and sadness so that the next person will  occupy it with their things and hopefully find  healing but today there is just the emptiness of this person’s life taken by complications from the Corona virus. I do not know this man, but he is not much older then me. I imagine I have passed him in town at a favorite market many of us go to and that someone in his family knows my name as I hear his being spoken in the news.

Later I walk in the park with Oona as she notices all the dogs that are suddenly passing her on the streets usually inhabited by one or two. It is like there is a fair going on and everyone is out for summer vacation in March. Young kids walk with their phones, skateboarders block a street we walk down making it impossible to bring Oona and many  dogs near the cliff without them becoming manic as they whiz by.

We detour up the side streets and run into others doing the same. We even stand at a  four way stop signaling to one another which dog should go first. For a change Oona just sits and watches rather then standing on her hind legs like a Meercat.

At home Jim has prepared some lentils and rice as he cuts parsley for the top of our meal. We are here with enough to eat, a beautiful place to walk and we watch the ocean tide roll in and out in the perpetual motion of ebb and flow.