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Election Diary; Overdue
It’s been longer than I intended between making entries in this series. Not going to apologize, it’s just something worth noting. I’m no Samuel Pepys, that’s for sure.
As I write, little songbirds are coming and going from the feeder attached to the window next to my desk. I’ve made a resolution that the feeder is only available while I’m at my desk. That sounds a bit cruel but it is because I love the native birds in New England and if the feeder is there all the time, starlings and house sparrows bully them and chase them away. So I’m accompanied by a few tufted titmice, chickadees, blue jays and cardinals. One blue jay bumped his head in his excitement to get some sunflower seeds. I hope he’s okay.
In a month, we will move here, to the little house. It’s already starting to feel a little unsafe at the loft. The thing about living in such a dramatic space is that it does draw attention, and it labels us “liberal elites.” Being Jewish under our present circumstances, in a rural area that has leaned red in the past, (yes, they exist, even in New England) well, that’s hard enough. Adding the “affluent college educated artsy type” label to it only makes things worse. We’re not affluent. We are solidly middle class. If we were affluent, I wouldn’t have to worry about the fact that the fence at the little house is non-existent on one side and falling down on the other. I could have that Korean-style brick wall with built-in garage I’m hankering after. But we’re not, so I can’t.
I pruned the apple trees and the plum today. I don’t think they’re too happy about it but it is for everyone’s good. I also hacked back a bunch of boxwood. What is the purpose of boxwood anyhow? Does anyone know?
At present I’m surveying the kitchen. So much smaller than the one at the loft. So little storage. A small fridge, and a stove that limps along with three burners that seem to burn hotter than the deepest pits of hell and one that only half-functions and sits at a 40% angle in its burner pan no matter what I do. It’s a sacrifice kitchen, a make-the-best-of-it kitchen and this year it will be my kitchen for six months.
The birds seem a little frantic to get seeds to stash for winter. Chickadees, nuthatches and titmice do that. They don’t know when they’ll see the feeder next. I guess they’ll be happy…
