December 16, 2024

Beethoven’s birthday.

P said she had some banana bread for me, but I never found it. Turns out she’d hung the bag on the doorknob, so that every time I opened the door to look, the bread swung out of sight. The rest of the story is that raccoons found it before I did, and what I found was a bag with the bottom torn out hanging from the knob. 

Walking out to the mailbox, I noticed Sweetboi on his old branch not six feet from my head. I talked to his steady, unforthcoming eyes until I realized he remembered me from before, and had come hoping for a handout. I drove to the Sav-Mor, bought bits of bony meat, returned, put a pork neck on the drive under the branch, and not a minute later he was on it, mantling against the onslaught of the crows. He stayed by the drive, pecking and gauging, every now and then sending out a brief, satisfied scream. I stood watching with tears in my eyes. The return of Sweetboi after a trespass on my part was forgiveness and Christmas cheer. 

DM has died. 

Cleaned out the pump well of the pond, but the motor still seems to be dead,

Felt a palpable, instantaneous  difference when a period of not feeling well clicked over into a period of feeling just fine, arthritis receded from thumbs and knees, breath strong, inflammation unnoticeable. I’ve lived in mine for 74 years and still the body is imponderable.