Birds Bathing

We've had a run of birds bathing today and at least one turf war.  First up we have Mrs. Cardinal or This-Year's-Fledgling Cardinal trying to contort itself into the fountain's tiny pools.  Of course it kept poking its head behind that Adirondack chair arm poking into the frame on the right but I managed to catch it once.

Then the catbird came for its morning splash.  I like the way catbirds look; they're a dark charcoal gray with a darker gray head, they cock their tails like wrens do, and, though you have to watch for it, their rump is a rusty red.  Pretty snazzy for a drab bird.


Just as the catbird got all wet and started really splashing this bluejay came over from its perch on the chair and chased the catbird to the top of a crook to finish preening and dart scowls back at the bluejay.  It's rare to see a bluejay bathing so I didn't feel too bad for the catbird, they come a few times a day.


I took these poems with me yesterday and after I'd read the first one, the guy organizing the event said, "You're in."  Wow.  I asked if I could read all I'd brought and he was enthusiastic to listen. It's a three day festival and they plan for me to read each day so I thought I'd work up three different 15-minute readings and said so.  He said he liked the ones I'd read but that's just the tip of the iceberg so I'm going to see what other poems I really like and that aren't too sappy or audience-specific.  This is pretty cool, kind of makes me feel like a real person again--although I didn't realize until yesterday that I'd stopped feeling like one sometime in the past.



I cut out the seersucker pants yesterday afternoon and in the evening I finished knitting the Fast Hat, even dug around after supper for a couple of Mother Malcolm's old buttons to sew on the brim.  I know the hat looks small but it fits me just fine and I've got a pretty big head.  I like this pattern, I'm thinking it'd be good for Seamen's Church hats.
 



June 12--Egypt 18th Dynasty, The Gold Mask of Tutankhamun.  Even in the dim and dusty halls of the old Egyptian Museum the gold mask drew the eye.  Victoria stood looking into the almond eyes of the boy Pharaoh thinking how it must have been to find his tomb.  Carter had to have been at his wits' end knowing that his career was over unless he found something and something big.  She thought how his heart must have leaped when he thrust his arm into the anteroom and his candle lit up the grave goods piled there.

It's still hot and beastly humid.  I went out this morning and hosed the cottonwood fluff off the vanes of both air conditioner units.  We sure don't want those crapping out this week.  I get to work today.  I'm less than thrilled but it's the very last Monday I'll ever work and I am thrilled about that.  Off to keep the world safe from SCUBA diving for 6 more days--after today.  Woohoo!
--Barbara