Hawk and Warbler

February 12, 2012


Odd how I did not mention two beautiful things, both in the air. When I was getting into the car I looked up and saw a warbler on the branch above me, his golden breast modulating into cream behind. It’s long since I’ve known the warblers on sight, and I didn’t rush to my field guides, so I’ll let him be a blessed mystery. Then, when I was walking to the sorority pot luck, I took a moment to sit in a little park nestled between Karpen and the university road. There was a great sir above me. Our red-tailed hawk had her nest in a branch of the pine above me. I watched her fold her wings, settle in, preen for a moment, and then hop out onto a neighboring branch, exactly like a countryman deciding to sit on the front porch for a while before going in. I could hear her feathers rustling.

News from the vet had been on my cell phone, un-listened to. Titus goes in tomorrow for surgery. I tell him every few minutes, “Don’t worry, we’re going to have it fixed in two days.” I hope he understands me in some way. Maud has made up with Circe, but not with him. She has no patience with mortality.

Cantaria pot-luck last night was, after all, unexpectedly sweet and homey, with all the guests gathered over their meals and over the pink tablecloths listening to the entertainment, which was quite good. Barry and Will sang “Au font du temple saint,” which I love. I have a dozen versions of it on I-tunes, and theirs would stand proudly among them.

AJ offered to proofread my novels. Since I am so manifestly bad at it, I took him up on it.

Got some painting done while the snow flew against the windows. This was a new direction, and had nothing to do with the show. I tell myself I have plenty for the show. I hope I’m right.

Took a morning nap yesterday. It was still dark when I lay down. When I rose up it was brilliant outside, and I thought I had slept very late indeed, but it was dawn on the falling snow. Soon the sun had climbed above the clouds and it was a dull winter day again.