Sunday, December 8, 2019

Leaning Trees

I spent the greater part of the day putting up and decorating the Christmas tree.  It's a new tree and I swear it's six inches taller than the last one.  Either that or I've shrunk six inches in the last year because I needed a stool to decorate the top of the danged thing.  I put the Yule Log On Demand on TV, the one with Christmas music, so I had the sound of a crackling fire and carols to sing along to.  I got the tree all done, took a look at it, and saw that it leans to the left a bit.  I folded cardboard to put under two of the feet which straightened it up a bit but the table isn't level so I'm working with a handicap here.  As long as the ornaments don't look like there's a strong wind blowing through the house I think I'm good.




And under the tree my elves, Abercrombie and Vincent, are all ready to help Santa when he arrives.





 


When I went out to wait for the flyover today I saw that the birdie tree leans to the right.  That one leans on purpose, though, because it isn't in a stand but is lashed to a couple of those green fence stakes that the honeysuckle grows on and I figured leaning it toward the privacy fence where the wind would blow it anyway was a safe way to keep the tree upright for the winter.  Not many birds use the tree since there's no birdseed out there but a few come for a drink and perch in there.  I found another RAT hole next to the patio so I'm going to continue not putting out seed.  Dammit.  I miss the birds.





The flyover!  I heard them practicing yesterday, twice, but didn't see them, the sneaky devils.  Today they flew right over the house like they're supposed to and I got 'em.  Big, beautiful, loud fighter planes.  I love airplanes.


 

After I got the tree all decorated I got to work on the Christmas toy.  It wasn't until I had the next foot/ear (it's a flip toy) done that I realized I'd picked up stitches inside the marker instead of outside so the appendages are wider apart on one end than the other.  *shrugs*  It's a toy, not rocket science.  It'll be fine.  Considering how much of a pain it is to pick up stitches there was no way I was going to take that little ear/foot off and start over.  It's a toy, not a graded course.  Ho ho ho.

08 December--Barbara Malcolm, Spies Don't Retire. 

The sun had risen enough to turn the clouds in the east a rosy pink when they arrived at the designated spot.  There were six cars there ahead of them and they could see Jeremy putting the teams together.  George parked the Rover at the end of the row and got his own hat, binoculars, and water bottle from the rear seat.  He and Dimitri joined the group just as Jeremy finished pairing up the men standing in front of him.
Jeremy turned and said, “I guess you two latecomers will have to be team number seven.”  He pulled a sheaf of maps from his backpack and handed one to each team member.  “You will notice that I have divided our watch area into sections.  Each section is numbered; that corresponds to your team number.”
George and Dimitri were glad to see the numeral seven on a patch right up against the cliff facing the sea.  Dimitri nudged George.  “You see, Jeremy has given us the best chance, I am thinking.  The caracara likes to nest high in trees, but I think being by the cliff gives them the air movement they need to lift their big bodies and their broad wings.”
“I see what you mean.  There are currents swirling around the cliffs, I’ll bet.”
The two men settled their hats more firmly on their heads to keep the sun off their faces and started hiking up the path to their section.  They moved with quiet steps so as not to disturb the wildlife.  As they reached their area, Dimitri stopped and pointed toward the cliff face.  “Look, George,” he whispered, “a sea eagle.  I think you have not seen one yet.”
George slowly lifted his binoculars and pressed them to his eyes.  “Yes, I see.”  He watched with rapt attention as the majestic bird floated on the rising morning breeze.  “He barely flaps his wings,” said George.  “Makes me wish I could fly.”
They walked on.
“Maybe that is why you like to scuba dive so much, George.  You can pretend you are flying.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Very few words were exchanged as they carefully made their way back and forth across the area Jeremy had marked for them.  They saw some promising nests in the trees but saw no caracaras.  They were surprised to hear Jeremy’s soft whistle, which was the signal that two hours had passed and summoned the teams back to the meeting point.
As they walked back, Dimitri hesitantly said, “George, when you were, um, working did you ever have to, well, entertain a lady?”
Gotcha, George thought.  “Oh, I did a few times.  I was always afraid I would have difficulty performing.  You?”  He could see Dimitri tug at his throat as if he had something stuck in it.
“Well, I did, yes.  I was not so worried about performing, I have always been able to fuck like a Georgian.”  He laughed at his play on words.  “I was more afraid that Irina would find out.  She has the temper of a Cossack.”
George chuckled.  “I imagine she has.  Sonia never asked me about it.  Did Irina?”
“No, thank god, she did not.  I am not so good a liar to Irina.  She can see right through me.”
George elbowed him.  “I’ll bet you had some coeds circling around you too.”
“What do you mean?”  Dimitri stopped walking to look at George.
“I remember when I was at university,” George said.  “Each of the professors seemed to have a gaggle of young women gathered around his desk after class; the girls would follow him to his office chattering like magpies.  Even I could see that at least one of them had a serious enough crush on him to be willing to earn a higher grade, uh, on her back, you might say.”
Dimitri started walking again.  “Oh yes, groupies.  I had them; they were pests.  I wanted to tell them to leave me alone but no matter what I did there was at least one in each class that followed me like a puppy.”
“Tough job.  There were no adoring young women in the Fisheries Department, at least none that didn’t smell like trout and river water.”  He looked over at Dimitri who was smiling.  “What are you smiling about?  Remembering one in particular?”  He made his voice low and purring, hoping to strike the universal locker room invitation to confession so he could get his distasteful job finished in a hurry.
But then his training came roaring back.  Better to lightly skirt the subject to soften up his quarry, then when he was not on guard, move in for the kill.  Before Dimitri could answer they arrived back to the group.
There was a flurry of activity as each team compared their finds.  No one had seen a caracara so none were able to identify a nest site.  The day was not a failure though, George saw his first sea eagle, with a witness so he was able to put it on his life list, and Jeremy and Mason counted six nesting pairs of Lora, the endemic parrot on Bonaire, that was coming back from being threatened with extinction.
Tom and Greg were in charge of providing breakfast afterwards.  They laid out a generous spread of hard-boiled eggs, one of Tom’s wife, Sheila’s delicious coffeecakes, and a box of bananas.  They had pitchers of orange-pineapple juice and thermoses of coffee.
George circulated among the group, carefully giving Dimitri space after their talk on the walk back.  He felt more in command of the situation now that circumstances had slowed the job and reminded him of his training.  It was a happy group, trading stories of sightings in the past, and watching the Magnificent Frigate Birds soar over the waves.
Dimitri was relaxed on the drive back down the island, showing no signs of either being aware that George was probing for information earlier or asking pointed questions of his own which would lead George to think he had gotten one of those hated letters himself.


We're supposed to get freezing rain in the wee hours, then transition to two inches of snow throughout the day.  Oh goodie.  I'm supposed to go to lunch and knitting with a couple other Barbaras tomorrow and I don't want to have to stay home because the roads suck. *heads off to pout*  At least we had 40 degrees and sunshine today.  That's something.  Snow I can deal with, freezing rain's a whole 'nother story.
--Barbara

1 comment:

Aunt B said...

I love both your leaning trees. The white one is perfect for showing off each ornament and the one outside has a beautiful shape. Glad you caught the flyover. You had to have your camera at the ready to be able to snap that shot. I'm done hauling and hanging stuff out and around down here. I'm ready to start singing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like.....Walmart!"