Hawk Sunday

I went out for a while yesterday afternoon.  Durwood stayed home and was treated to a front-row view of one of "his" hawks hunting, nabbing, and eating a sparrow right in front of his camera.  Lucky him!  It was still on the fence digesting when I got home but that's small cheese compared to the exciting arc of the circle of life he got to witness.















My solitary nature view was this morning's sunrise, or pre-sunrise when I went out to top up the birdbath.  The sky in the east was the palest blue and the thin clouds were the sweetest peachy pink.  It was worth standing there shivering for as along as it took to snap two pictures.

The orange-date bread that I made yesterday was definitely worth the trouble.  I was tempted to eat it ALL to save Durwood from having to eat any but I reconsidered and just put the second loaf into the freezer for later.  Probably not a lot later (unless I forget about it, which is a real possibility) but later.  I can always make more, right?  I can buy dates, I've seen 'em in stores, and we always have oranges and I know there're walnuts in the freezer.  Or instead of buying dates I could use up some of the other kinds of dried fruit we've got.  See?  I almost HAVE to make more.  It'd be wasteful not to.  (oh, i am a saint, a SAINT i tell you)

Is anyone ever happy with themselves just the way they are?  No, really, I want to know.  Right now, right this minute, I am sick and tired of trying to be ever vigilant about what I eat, weighing each and every morsel for how it fits into "the plan" and being filled with recrimination when I fail, which this winter has been most of the time, and not exercising enough to balance it out.  Ptooi.  I feel like I'm piling up grains of sand to hold back a tsunami. I just want to duck and cover.  But with snacks.

February 25--Bali, Container, Powder Charge.  Vincent stroked the tiny fur and feather flies.  "Where did you find these?"  The wonder in her voice made butterflies in her stomach.  "I got them in an old junk shop out in the country.  Will they be good to fish with?"  He held the strip of sheepskin close to his chest.  "If I fish with them I might lose them.  I have other flies to fish with, these I'll keep safe."

And that's all there was.  *sigh*  I was really hoping for more, maybe a peek into the mysteries of the universe, but instead all I saw was the inside of my eyelids.  Durwood just got up.  Time to go have breakfast and get ready for work.  Have a ... day.


--Barbara