I.
Thursday, April 28th, I walked headfirst into a parallel bar on the playground. I smoothly ducked the first one, came up, strode forward, and somehow nailed my forehead on the second bar. (The "parallel" aspect escaped me.)
I didn't pass out. Thankfully. Although, I may have given myself whiplash for the first time without the help of anyone else. No other driver, other person. Just me and the playground equipment. I obviously don't bounce the same as when I was four.
II.
We have a bird feeder. It
was outside the kitchen window. I would see it when I was washing dishes. It worked very well for about a week. Little sparrows and chickadees gathered.
Then it was discovered by our local, bushy tailed squirrel. A nice interlude: running water, beautiful hedgerow, birds gathered on branches watching the lone squirrel *gorge* on seed.
The feeder sits atop of long, steel pole, and comes equipped with a domed roof. The pole and dome are "squirrel prevention".
We moved the bird feeder closer to the apple tree. At the moment he is sitting on the feeder eating lunch. I watched him shimmy up the pole and swing himself
up and onto the rim in an acrobatic dance move. At least he had to burn a few calories in the endeavor.
III.
The town where I lived as a teenager had tall, steel lamp posts towering above the main street. As a child in New York, I recall the lamp posts were placed next to the road. Not here. In this sleepy Florida town, they were placed in the center of the sidewalk.
I was shy and bookish in high school. I'd hide in a world of words, even when walking. I recall this one afternoon, nose firmly buried, when I connected with one of those hard, metal posts. I woke, book sprawled across my chest, sidewalk hard beneath my back. Cars whizzing by. Sun shining down. I always prayed the time between connection and waking had been brief. Very brief.
