Winding down the days
I'm at that point in my recovery from an illness where the brain is aware and on the move and the body can't quite keep up. I have no patience with myself (though I am always more than patient with everyone else). This self-directed desire to be bounding around resulted in a concerted effort to find pleasure in simple things,things to soothe my impulsiveness and carry me through the next month or so.Birds. I have feeders outside the windows most often in my line of sight. Last winter I was repeatedly dazzled by the cardinals -- I had seven pair to track, including one particularly fiesty one who spent hours defending the sunflower sunflowers from all other invaders. He quickly learned that the glass separating my cat from him was impenetrable, at which point the bird (a sadist for sure) began clutching on the screen, taunting my furry friend -- my cat Franklin - to a frenzy.
My biggest smile, though, came with the arrival of the goldfinches, bright fluttering creatures who can clean out a feeder of thistle a day. I watch them dart about and try to spot the nesting trees. When I first moved here, I had not a single one. Last year a few found their way to me. Now, I am overrun, but that is not a complaint.
In her near daily visits my granddaughter helps me keep the feeders full, and has an affinity for my birds, often sitting at the foot of my bed, watching their squabbles, assigning human behaviors to them. My "bird book." passed from my father to me, and I think ultimately to her, is always on the windowsill.
Watching the comings and goings of my feathered companions make the day pass quickly, soothing and settling that otherwise anxious desire to "up and running."
Instead, I curl up, watch, and let this little bit of nature do its healing.