cool

what’s with all these bird pics lately?

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I dunno. They’re just there. Maybe it’s the Holy Spirit messing with me a little. He knows I get a kick out of that.

Anyway…the birds. This heron has been a lone wolf around these parts as far as I can remember. One day he showed up and hasn’t left. Just the one. Well, once there were two, but usually it’s one. I can say this, he’s faithful to his little spot. There’s a branch that has made something like a sandbar in this little lake, and every morning he’s out there like a sentinel, just hanging out.

This morning was the first real cold morning of the season. The lake, on these mornings, reminds me of a scene out of “The Fall of the House of Usher,” when the narrator describes “the sullen waters of the tarn.” That’s my literary background creeping in on a gloomy morning.

Add the bird and you get a little character in there. There’s something about him that I like. Maybe it’s his constancy. Or his style. He’s pretty regal as he stands there, motionless. Or maybe it’s because he seems a little out of place. Maybe, he’s just hanging out there because he knows I appreciate him for no other reason than he’s there every morning.

There’s something to be said for presence.

ladybug, ladybug

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We have a small infestation of ladybugs in our bedroom, and especially our bathroom. I don’t know how the little bugs got in, but they’re small, so they obviously found a way.

People keep telling me they are good luck. I don’t know about that, but they’re cute — when they’re not flying into my face or watching me. They aren’t watching me, are they? In the bathroom. Ew.

I did a little bit of research on them. Wikipedia suggests they were named for the Blessed Virgin, that’s why they are called Lady bugs, or Lady birds, in Europe. It turns out that in the Middle Ages, the farmers asked for Our Lady’s intercession to protect crops. I especially like the Dutch name for them, lieveheersbeestje, little creatures of Our Lord.

Isn’t that sweet? I think I’ll quit complaining about them.

I’m no birdwatcher, but…

Is this a Cooper’s Hawk. In my backyard?

John and I were enjoying coffee in our living room this morning. It’s a beautiful day to be outside, but we weren’t quite ready to go out there yet, instead just enjoying the sunshine streaming into the room. A slight breeze was moving the trees and casting an occasional shadow, so we did a double-take when something swooped by the window.

John shot up and went to the window and called me over. There was a hawk in the roses. It must have been hunting the rabbits that have recently over-populated our backyard. The hawk then flew up and perched on the roof of our deck, and then took off to a dead tree just beyond our property.

He was still there when I came back with the camera, and then he flew right back into our yard.

 

Holy smokes! He hid in one of our trees, watching, dare I say it, like a hawk.

Ha ha. I crack myself up.

So, what is it? Anybody know if we’re right? John says it’s a Cooper’s Hawk. Google images says maybe.

I say, ask the internet 🙂

what an amazing memory

One of the things that I have learned from 25 years in education is that there are many different kinds of intelligence and giftedness. It’s easy to put students, especially young ones, in nice neat little boxes so they can be easily “managed.” On the one hand, the need for order is paramount, especially as classes get bigger and bigger. On the other hand, that order sometimes comes at the expense of creativity (and tragically, at the expense of human dignity). It’s particularly sad when that quest for order fails to acknowledge the gifts present in students with special needs.

Stephen Wiltshire is a young man with an astounding gift. He’s called the living camera. He’s probably called some other things, too:  some mean and hateful, and other labels that try to classify him or peg him into a “category” so that we can better understand his needs.

I’m just calling him an amazing artist.

civic duty and all that

I had jury duty earlier this week. Very exciting. Got far into the process and the trial was gonna start later in the week, and suddenly, the case was settled.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person I know who takes this seriously, as in, I am proud to serve and don’t try to find some lame excuse to get out of it. Or worse, lie or misrepresent myself so I don’t get picked. I am appalled when I hear people say things like that.

I am proud to be an American, and acutely aware of the awesomeness of my citizenship. It wasn’t an accident of birth but something I had to earn, which makes it all the more precious.

I don’t walk around wearing an American flag pin, or spout vitriol at anyone who doesn’t love this country (although it hurts me to hear it) but I fly the flag on my front porch, and I vote in every election (and do my homework first), and I recognize the awesome responsibility and duty to serve on a jury.

I seem to get called an awful lot. Which is weird, when you think about it — the lawyers either love or hate teachers. Either I sit uncomfortably in round after round of questioning, or they dismiss me immediately. I guess it depends on what they need.

This particular case was in criminal court and looked interesting, from what I could glean…the defendent was a little on the creepy side…a fantastic inspiration for a character in my current Work-in-Progress, a story of murder and intrigue.

In fact, now that I think about it, the dude looked an awful lot like Steve Buscemi. Ha. Not that I had made up my mind about the guy or anything. 🙂 Really. I didn’t.

I’ll be honest, though, I’m kinda sorry we were dismissed. I was looking forward to observing the process up here in this county. I served on a couple of juries in Miami, and that was entertaining, though not as entertaining as the woman sitting next to me. She spoke, at nauseum, about her husband’s hobby: showing mules.

I don’t get out enough.