Grey Day Blues

After getting a late start on my walk today, I plowed on and even managed to add two blocks to my previous count. At the half-way point I debated taking the short route home--this is supposed to be about doing something to make myself feel better, after all. But I was feeling taller and striding along without too much pain, so I decided to push it--especially since I had missed the last two days of fine weather.

It certainly seemed bleak today. Grey and overcast. As someone said yesterday, typically Portland. Once in a while, we will have a glorious spring, with every flower bursting out at once and the sun shining on it all. This spring will unfold slowly, it seems. The flowers today were as bright as when the sun shines, but they did not stir me as they did on the sunny days. It is the sun that puts a smile on my face, irresistibly.

[The silly thing is, it cleared up later. My sweet spoiled sable cat's fur was actually hot to the touch, from baking herself in the sun in one of the West windows.]

I was heralded nearly every block by raucous caws. Crows must be guardians, protecting their territory. I have noticed that city crows are actually much larger than crows I see at the beach. (The ones that have been coming to my yard for handouts--now probably at least fourth generation--are really big. They strut about, big as banty hens.)

This neighborhood is very familiar to me. I have been walking these streets for over ten years. Seen most of the houses change hands. Noted the changes people have made to their yards. Have it down, where I can see a flicker pecking away, or huge flocks of robins. Today passing the yard where an ailing birch used to be a favorite of the flickers, there were a half dozen crows in the yard, who flew off noisily when I passed by. Two young squirrels high-tailed it to trees on either side of the walk, to peer at me, angrily, it seemed. They were equidistant in their respective trees, both facing me, like a formal design--or combat maneuver.

We feed the squirrels black oil sunflower seeds, and I always wonder why we only see young ones. Squirrels are not social animals, but the older ones, the parents, must be around somewhere, after brooding the young.

As I walk, I look for color. Today I note the orangey-red of a rambling picket fence, smeared vertically with yellow moss. I like the way it looks--aged and a little uncertain. I see yards where every blade of grass is manicured, but I prefer the yards with toys--kids' or adults'-scattered about and the flower beds a little wild, even undefined. I think those are a haven for creatures and birds.

I brought home a couple tails from a monkey puzzle tree. (Wow, those funny trees do create a lot of litter!) I will smear them with peanut butter laden with seed, for the birds and squirrels. It is getting warmer, but there are plenty of cold days ahead.

A little addition about the monkey puzzle trees: seeing them on a visit to Portland was one factor in my decision to move here. That and the small-town feel of big-city Portland. Now this area seems as familiar to me as--the place where I lived for thirty years. But at first it was like being in a foreign country. Different trees, different birds. (I cried on seeing cardinals, on my first visit back to the Midwest.) An adjustment. But the monkey puzzle trees are a bonus: we sure didn't have those in the Midwest.