A Gang of Bluejays

This morning a flock of Bluejays, well, three of them anyway, were hollering their raucous cries from the apple tree.  I managed to snap their pictures and was amazed at how clear they are considering that I didn't have the long lens on the camera.  A Flicker perched in the top of the tree when the Bluejays left but I wasn't as lucky taking its picture.  All blurry.  Bah.


 
Then a pair of molting Goldfinches came for a snack and a drink.  This one looks particularly raggedy.  The other one had already turned that sickly avocado greenish color of their winter plumage.  How embarrassing it must be to have that flashy yellow and black outfit for the summer and then swap it for a dull, muddy green for winter when everything else is dull too.


I met ACJ down at The Attic this afternoon for a couple hours of visiting and then writing.  I keep banging away at the keyboard writing scenes to beef up my word count.  In two weeks I'll be at The Clearing where I know I'm going to get lots of words nailed down to the page.  I can't wait.


After writing I zoomed out to the Y for a nice half-hour of having the machines pretty much all to myself.  On the way home I stopped at the grocery for a few things and made an executive decision about those disgusting biscuit pieces I made for the WW chicken pot pie last night.  At the end of the recipe there's a note that you can skip making biscuits and sub a 7 oz. tube of low fat biscuits.  So I found the lowest fat tube, snipped each one into quarters, and baked them.  Then I fished out all of the yukky ones and threw them away.  I bagged the pieces and will put the baked pieces on each serving as I heat it up.  No more slimy, doughy biscuits for this girl.

And I made the rat catcher tonight.  I found a piece of 1" x 4" downstairs, hammered a couple nails in one end to hook over the rim of the pail, smeared it with peanut butter, sprinkled on black oil sunflower seeds, filled the pail about 1/3 full of water, and floated seeds on top.  Part of me is horrified that I did it and part of me wants to sit by the patio door all night to see if it works.  But I won't. 

25 September--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

            The sun had nearly set by the time we got back from Gil's.  I drew the drapes to let in the golden light and opened the patio doors.  The music of the wind and waves rushed into the room, filling it with sound and movement.  Abel opened the bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and came to sit beside me on the patio.

He raised his glass and said, "To the next successful artist in Door County."

I touched the rim of my glass to his and was surprised by the ringing it made.  "This is crystal," I said.

"Yes, it is," he said, looking deep into my eyes.  “I wanted our first night together to be special."

            Those four little words, "our first night together," threw me into a mild panic.  It had been too many years since someone had seen me naked.  For all my passionate thoughts of the last few months I wasn't sure I was ready to take my clothes off in front of a relative stranger.  I turned my gaze to the setting sun and gulped my wine.  Abel reached and filled my glass without a word.  I kept my eyes on the horizon until all the color had faded from the sky and my second glass of wine was empty.

When the sounds of the last family on the shore had faded, his voice came out of the darkness.  “Gail?”  I didn’t make a sound.  “Gail, shall we go in?”

I drew a deep breath, nodded (though I doubt he could see), and stood up on shaky legs.  My knees felt like they weren’t going to work and, when they did, they felt jerky and out of control, like I’d just gotten a new set.

Silently Abel followed me, closed the sliding door, and drew the drapes.  I stood like a statue, my hands at my sides, in the middle of the room while he lit a rose-scented candle and turned out the entry light.   He came to stand in front of me, his hands caressing my arms, and said, “We’ve been waiting a long time for this.”  And he leaned forward and kissed me very softly on the lips.

At the first touch of his lips on mine, I could feel my tight muscles relax.  Abel kissed my lips again, a little nibbling kiss, and began kissing my jaw and eyes, his lips slid down my neck to my collarbone, all the time murmuring my name.

When his lips touched the hollow of my throat, a rush of heat flooded my body and unlocked the nervous tension that had frozen me.  My head fell back and my hands finally came to life, gripping his arms to keep him from stopping.  I pulled him closer, one hand under his chin, gently guiding his lips back to mine.  We kissed, a long passionate kiss.  A kiss that should have been in the movies.  A kiss for the record book, if the world was smart enough to keep records of such things.  A kiss I felt in every cell.

I don’t know if I broke the kiss or Abel did, but soon his gentle fingers were unbuttoning my blouse and sliding it off my shoulders.  I shivered; not with cold or nerves, but from the sensual feel of his hands on my skin.  My fingers moved with a will of their own to find the buttons of his shirt and I concentrated on slipping the little plastic disks out of their impossibly tiny holes.  Abel shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside.

His calloused palms raised goosebumps on my arms as they traced their way over the satin and lace of my bra.  My nipples pushed at his palms, pleading to be set free.  He dipped his face into the cleft between my breasts and kissed and licked the tender skin there while he reached behind me to unhook my bra.  I moaned as the scrap of fabric fell away and arched my back to press my breasts to his chest.  His springy gray chest hair scratched my nipples as he pulled me into his embrace.  Time stood still as we reveled in the feel of our bodies entwined.

I felt Abel’s hands slide down my back and slip under the waistband of my jeans.  I hadn’t noticed him undoing the snap and pushing down the zipper.  The warmth of his hands made me press myself to him to drink in the hint of warm cinnamon rising from our flesh.  I felt for his belt, unbuckled it, and unzipped his fly.  I slid my hands around his waist and felt his slacks fall away.  The sound the fabric made slipping off was like a sigh or maybe he sighed, I don’t know.

Abel took my hand in a courtly gesture as we stepped out of the puddles of our pants and twirled me as if we were dancing.

“Music?” he asked.

It was a struggle to form my answer.  “No.”

Our bodies came back together as if they were magnetized.  We kissed and caressed, moving toward the king-size bed.  Without breaking the kiss, Abel reached and flipped the covers back.  We slid beneath the cool white sheets.

In the flickering candlelight, Abel’s face loomed over me.  “I love you, Gail.  You’re so beautiful.”

           “I love you too, Abel,” I said, cupping his face with my hands and pulling his lips to mine.

            The candle flame flickered in a pool of wax in the jar by the time we pulled the covers into some semblance of order and snuggled together to sleep.

I spent a lot of the morning writing (and rewriting) a knitting guild blog post, writing a note to the County Fair knitting judge, and emailing the Fair Exhibitor coordinator.  She gave me the judge's contact info and also asked for ideas and help getting more young people entering knitted and crocheted items in the fair.  Since one of the aims of the Guild is to grow more knitters we're willing to help make that happen.  I feel all grownup and efficient having gotten all that accomplished.  Didn't knit today but I sure got a lot of other stuff done.
--Barbara