Twelve Tribes Ship

While in Savannah the "Peacemaker Ship" was in the harbor. I know very little about this religious group that calls themselves the Twelve Tribes and assume they have some controversy since they are so different but if you click on the blog title you can learn more from their web site.  The ship itself was very interesting and a tour of most of the ship was available free to the pubic.  It was spotless and almost looked as though it had never seen a voyage.  This group has plans to dock at various ports throughout the U.S.  They sell pottery and other items and accept donations to raise funds.


I took most of these pictures just for Maggie at Postcards who is intrigued by ships and recently posted a very nice photo of one.  You may also enjoy this post if you also like old style ships and rigging.

The old phrase to "show them the ropes" certainly comes to mind when looking at this photo.  I cannot begin to imagine how complicated sailing this ship would be and how everyone would have to 'dance' together when needed.  This is called a barquentine rig and I know nothing about it, but it sounds so romantic.  Hubby has just finished reading the entire Master and Commander series by Patrick O'Brian (which I gave him one birthday) and was into this self guided tour big time.

Looks like they may need a rope weaver for this important rope above.

Above is the command center, of course.

Clearly every detail was carefully preserved including keeping several stained glass doors near the former bar.  This ship was built by Italian craftsmen in Brazil and launched in 1989 by a Brazilian industrialist before it was sold to this group.  It is quite beautiful. Feel free to click on photos for a closer look.

Gardens and Nightlife

Even though the wind was bitterly cold in both Charleston and Savannah, we did peek into some of the traditional courtyard gardens that were next to the historic homes and mansions and found that camellias were in abundant bloom. Spring was certainly on its way here.  These photos of tuck-away gardens reminded me of  Annie in Austen  and Kerri in New York among many of the other bloggers that love flowers and post blossoms throughout the year to chase the winter blues.

Yes, this garden gate has a real estate lockbox on the latch.  There were a number of homes for sale throughout the city of Savannah.  I just love the decorative concrete posts and arched gate and arched tree and had to capture the photo and maybe I will photoshop the lockbox out next time.

I was getting hungry so I pulled hubby away from his new found friend discussing the acid inducing Dow and headed to the newly refurbished town center.  It is very modern and still under construction and a harsh contrast to the romance of the city.  At least the parking is now underground.


The restaurants were not filled with customers, either due to the recession or the time of year or both.  The food was always good if a little too rich in calories.  Late one evening after too much food and, perhaps, too much wine I decided to try my lampshade hat dance around the restaurant to liven the place up much to my husband's dismay!  He can be very patient.  (Actually, as we all know this is really Littleredhare trying out an arty pose.)

Savannah

Savannah has managed to hang on to its wonderful charm in spite of the pressures to 'develop or die' that all historic cities face.  I love this city every time I visit and I see something new each time.  It is the size that a tourist can get their mind around.  It is filled with squares of green with benches on which to rest and historic statues to learn about the drama that Savannah played in the history of our country.  I looked throughout Charleston for Mark and Butler and Bagman, but saw them not in any windy corner.  You can imagine my surprise when I came across Butler and Bagman off in Savannah!  Mark must have kicked them out for the weekend so that he could think.

I was just getting ready to take a photo of Bagman leaning against this pole (click for all the gooey detail) covered in chewing gum outside the famous Savannah market place, and just as I lifted the camera, Bagman stuck a large wad of bubble gum next to the hundreds of others and dashed off after a twenty-something whose skirt had flown above her head in the strong winds. When he is on a mission it is impossible to keep up!  Just to let you know he was wearing tight black jeans and black cowboy boots, of all things.

Shortly after that we headed to the water and were sitting on a lovely bench swing beneath a shelter on the Savannah waterfront.  Butler had just completed putting up this wire barrier in the ceiling above to keep out the hundreds of pigeons and then gave us a stern look as he pointed at the sign behind the screen which he must have installed earlier.  You may need to click on the photo.  Scheduled swinging?  What happened to the leisurely South?  They should never let Butler run amok in the land of romance.  I neglected to take a picture, but beneath his winter London fog coat he appeared to be in a tuxedo?  Historically Savannah was the land of cotton and this area had been lined with warehouses for shipping out the bales.  There was very little time then for swinging, I am sure.


We ignored Butler's stern frown and headed back into town looking for some hot tea and nutrition past the houses that sometimes look like cake frosting.  Savannah, definitely one of my favorite cities, affords too many opportunities for photos.  Lots of fun architecture and too much wonderful history to put in this blog post.  The last photo is Savannah's famous Rainbow Row which has houses painted the colors of the Caribbean.

Before we leave Savannah there will be time for a little nightlife in my next post.

Connections

(Needless to say, my last post left my dozen readers curious...just mention s*x and the browsing becomes careful reading...well, maybe some day I will elaborate...)


My blogging over the years has created wonderful connections with so many interesting people that I would have not met otherwise, being somewhat the hermit that I am.  Thus, this trip to Florida brought to light a number of interesting references to my blogmates---whatever those are---and I will link to those bloggers who came to mind as I traveled.

We stopped first in Charleston and spent much of our cold and windy time there darting into various stores and restaurants.  We did pass this ancient bell near the time of  Barry's blog bell ringing celebration that filled the blog air around the globe with music.  It was a reminder of his last week of 'therapy' and certainly an omen as I do not know why I felt compelled to take the photo of this old bell. Later research revealed that years ago there were three bells that rang on all fire alarms until 1927, and then only on second and third alarms. These bells also alerted the city to hurricanes, severe temperature changes, and notable national events, such as Barry reaching his monumental goal. 

There are certain clues that let you know you are entering the authentic south and one of these was what awaited us when we checked into our hotel.  We had checked into a small hotel near town and found a lunch sack of goodies from the manager.  They included hard candies, a small bag of taco chips and this can of Yoohoo chocolate drink.  Only in the South can you get such healthy gifts!  Note that the can says it contains 7 vitamins and minerals in order to justify its existence!  There was only ONE can, so we had to share.  I have not drunk this in years and probably/hopefully never will again!

In the next post we actually run into Butler and Bagman in Savannah, of all places!

Life Story # 30 --- Surviving With the "Others"

Just before I start my North Carolina, Georgia, and Florida travel reminiscing posts, I am feeling the need to post a little bit about my life with the 'Others' while living on an island group in the South Pacific that the "Survivors'" cast actually visited one season.   I have been scanning slides, of course.  I am not in the photo below, but I took the picture.

I have remained in touch with two of the people in this photo but the lady in the hot pink dress has since passed on.  She was a red-hot momma and full of interesting stories, and the only one that I knew there that swam in the ocean nude, which I pretended did not shock me at all at the time.  She had two teenage or twenty-something boys from whom she was estranged as they led drug-delaying lives in Southern California.  Her husband was sharp as a tack and was a former pirate and smuggler of rare animals into the U.S. before actually taking an honest job on this island running the tuna cannery.  He reminded me of John Wayne or Hemingway with his larger than life personality and body size.   I was a twenty-something farm girl and it didn't take much to keep me fascinated during those years.   The baby in this photo is my daughter. 

This apartment building, as you will remember if you read prior posts on my blog, is where I lived.  They were called the 'Pink Apartments ' by the expats and they only had running water and electricity every other or every third or every fourth day.  It all depended on whether the drunk who ran the generator remember to add fuel or whether the other local islander remembered to turn on the water that day, as water was rationed.  The fact that we all remained friends was a miracle, but it does explain the need to use alcohol and sex to soften the tension.  The stenciled numbers above the door makes it look like some military base or certainly the location of the 'Others.'  (Maybe that little boy in the foreground is a current producer of "Survivor" or "Lost" and this is where his vision for one of the television series first took form.)  

Actually living there was more like "Desperate Housewives" than "Survivor."  The affairs and flirting and babies...I would spill all, but some of it is really X-rated, such as the American nymphomaniac nurse that eventually got kicked off the island.  I guess that I actually got sophisticated fairly rapidly having friends all over the spectrum including the missionaries who were there and didn't really get along with each other and the priest who was an alcoholic but a gentle old soul.

I have probably forgotten the best stories.  Should have kept a diary.

Bummed

Returned from my cool spring days visiting in Florida. Weather was in the high 40's to high 50's and only hit the 60's on one day. Thus the only beach pictures I have were taken through the window of a bar as we watched the setting sun on Shrove Tuesday at the touristy Ft. Myers Beach area. We are not the celebratory type, so we sneaked away to an odd little room off the bar and sat at a wobbly little table to quietly watch the sunset and left the old and young folks with the feathered hats and beads to the other end of the room.  The strong wind across the beach created little feathers of rainbow dust, which was fun to watch.  A few hardy souls in coats and hats walked the shore.  These photos are for Colleen who loves the beach as much as I and who would have put on her jacket and posed for me!

As to the title of this post, why am I bummed?  Well, it is not the weather because the odd cold spring in Florida is still better than winter here.  It is not the snow and downed trees that awaited my return because they had been somewhat cleared and we were actually able to drive right up to the house on our return.  It is not the bill that will come from the young men who removed (partially) the trees.  (It is not those politicos whose statements followed us on the radio where they were using the snowstorms to denigrate Al Gore and climate change...although, I do find it depressing that such ignorance about science exists in Congressmen and that whatever school system they went through did not educate them on the differences between weather and climate and how climate change is going to produce dramatic weather changes.  If it was all in jest, then I can hardly wait to see their second act when entire cities and villages drift into the sea.)


The actual reason I am so bummed is because my Canon Digital SLR, purchased in early 2007, died yesterday.  I have no idea what happened but it will not turn on.  Changed batteries, cleaned terminals, etc. and no luck.  I called a repair place about 70 miles up the road and they said it would cost a minimum of $255 AND would take 4-6 weeks as they send it away!  I don't know if I am more depressed about the cost or the loss of a camera for so long especally as spring gets here.  (I bit the bullet and sent the camera directly to Canon at the minimum cost of $215.)


I have a bunch of travel photos to work on, so that will keep me busy while I think or perhaps EXERCISE---now that would be novel!


My point and shoot which was my back up camera no longer focuses when the zoom is on as the focus mechanism is broken when I bumped the extended lens two weeks ago, so that is limited help.  When it rains it pours...but at least the rain is melting the snow.

Difference of Opinion

Before we left for Florida I got to spend snow time with my two most favorite little munchkins.  One child loves the snow and we couldn't get him inside until the sun started going down.  The other one as you can see, not so much!

I guess that is why we call her The Princess!

Enough Already!

I am in Florida trying to thaw my frigid bones as this post is being published.   It seemed that almost every weekend that we headed into the city to visit my daughter this past winter, we saw this mess in our driveway on our return.  I love the beauty of the snow but this winter we have had at least 5 (6?) snowstorms when usually we have only one little one.  I have become way too familiar with the snow shovel as we keep the deck clear and the sidewalks safe.  The driveway has to take care of itself because it is quite large.  I guess that I got spoiled by the past decade of milder winters.  I hate to say it, but we better not see this when we pull into our neighborhood upon our return and yet,  I am sure we will.  Photo above was taken after the second major snow storm.

Here is the same driveway after the fourth and record breaking snowstorm and just one day before we left.  What looks like a berm of snow is actually snow covered ice! The hedge in the mid-distance is a lovely cedar that fell across the driveway with a big snowy sigh.  There was another even larger cherry tree across the driveway closer to the house!  It was like our hiking trips to get back home.  (Post Script:  Just got off the phone from talking with our tree removal guy who cannot get into the driveway with his big truck because it is still too snowy and wet...he did say that the other BIG pine tree at the front of the driveway also added its opinion to this snowy winter...that makes 4 trees down so far!)

If we do have this much snow when I get back,  I am getting out my magnifying glass and putting a stop to all this nonsense.  Let's hope I don't start a forest fire!

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

I was trying to remember how I felt about my appearance when I was in my twenties, just married, and not bogged down by the demands of small children.  While I was pretty self-conscious during my teenage years, I think in my twenties I didn't think about my appearance very much at all.  I was living a new married adventure.  I pretty much kept my hair in a pony tail and the only make-up was the little lipstick I sometimes wore.  After all, I lived on a 'remote' tropical island that was frequently without water or electricity and where the daily temperature always made you sweat...who cared what I looked like?


I guess the good thing about living in the remote areas of the world is that there was no television to remind me that I needed improvements through magical cosmetics and dynamic hair care products.  No one was telling me my eyelashes needed to be longer, my hair shinier, and that I needed to lose weight---good thing, because according to these photos I was pretty thin.

I bought myself a scanner and light table last month and have been spending a little time going through old slides and seeing which ones might be fun to put on Facebook for family and friends and trying to think about the work in starting an archive project where I might need to scan and organize  thousands of photo digitally.  I came across these two slides and actually was amazed...really amazed at how thin I was.  I do remember that I loved to eat like a horse.  Ah, the wonders of youthful metabolism.  This photo above was taken at U.N. Days in Palau, Micronesia.  I vaguely remember one of the activities during the two day celebration involved a rooster fight, because I came across the photos!

This next photo was taken at a meeting in Tonga.  (I did the math and my daughter was conceived at this meeting.)  No, none of the above is hubby.

Just the Facts

Some people say that statistics lie.  Depending on how they are presented, they can frequently tell more than one story.  The same is true of the news as we all know.  What you hear, read, or even see is not always what actually happened or is only a surgical part of the whole story.  For example,  this photo below could have been taken on a gray day with the promise of a building storm.  It could leave the impression that the weather was quite foreboding when I was out and about.

If I tweak this photo just a little I can make the day sunny and filled with promise.  It looks like the weather may not be so bad after all once I candy-coat the image.  Maybe the storm is waning?

But what if I decide to be truly honest and let you see the full photo and let you decide for yourself about the sky that day?  What if I trust you enough to handle the full story...all the information?  It would make a big difference, wouldn't it?

(If you are an educator of children and teach critical thinking skills, please feel free to use this post.)

Ten Questions to Ponder.

1. Do you ever wonder if we truly have only a finite number of heartbeats in our magnificent body?
2. Do you wonder if you had started writing poetry when you were young that you would have run out of poems by now.
3. Do you wonder if there could ever be too many children to love? (No. this is not an Octomom question.)
4. Are 1000 digital sunset photos too many to collect?  What about 2000?
   
5. Is it better to live in a society with too many rules or too few?
   
6. Can you remember the last time you laughed until your face hurt?  (I can, but it was too long ago.)
7. How many love songs can be written before they all sound too familiar?
8. Would you be bored by too much good news?  Would you like to try it and see?
9. How old do you have to be before you are too old...for whatever life throws your way?
10. Finally, what do you have too much of and what do you have not enough of?
    

I am off to warm my toes in some Florida ocean water knowing full well that Mother Nature's disposition will follow me with tropical storms and maybe tornadoes there.  (If you want to know why, check in on my other blog in a few days to see what is happening in the Room Without Walls.)  Meanwhile you can ponder all of the above!  I will bring my laptop and be checking in.

Dog in the Sun

This photo is not the mini-me version of the sun or some alien vehicle crossing the winter sky on the horizon.  These are sun-dogs that I was able to capture during our recent tour of Stratford Hall Plantation in Virginia.  (Stratford Hall Plantation is approximately 1900 acres preserved in memory of the very wealthy Lee family of American history.  Maybe I will post more on that someday.)

These sun-dogs are formed by sunlight and ice crystals and can be seen best when the sun is low in the sky.  They appear on each side of the sun.  These photos were taken at about 4:00 in the late afternoon.  If I had been able to shoot directly at the sun with a filtered lens I would have been able to capture the sun-dog on each side with the sun in the middle.  But here the sun is off the screen on opposite sides in these photos.  The earliest description of the sun-dog was probably 1533 in Moravia.  Fascination with sun-dogs can be found in literature, poetry, music and art whenever people think three suns  in the sky are an omen of some kind.

Keep your eyes toward the late sky in winter and you may see sun-dogs.  Woof!

Time is Such a Moving Thing.

I somehow missed the headline in the Science section of the newspaper about how the earth is ever so subtly speeding its rotation.  I failed to learn that the earth is on a new scary speed.  I guess that is why I had the conversation below:


Tabor:  Is today Wednesday?
Hubby:  Nope.
Tabor:  Thursday?
Hubby:  Nope.
Tabor:  FRIDAY??
Hubby:  Yep.
Tabor:  Oh s**t...!  (I only swear like a sailor when it is truly important and it appears that someone or something stole my whole week.)
 
Not too long ago my week was composed of 5 long days and two very short ones.  Now my week is composed of three very short days.  I am still trying to figure out how this happened and to adjust.

A Steal

Start the car!  Start the car! (link to the ad here.)

This is exactly how hubby and I felt after we purchased this large garden structure from Lowe's hardware store.  I had planted a climbing rose last fall and had nothing for it to climb on when this summer came!

This was the only arbor remaining in their cold and dreary outdoor garden section and had been marked down for clearance to $60.  It was made of cedar and completely put together and originally $200!  Putting it together would have taken me all day!  Now all I needed to do was bring it into our basement to dry out then take it out in the spring and do a little sanding and some sealing as it already had a nice gray patina.

We drove home and got our little pull-behind wagon to load our find.

Immediately after it was loaded Hubby shouted "Start the car! Start the car!"

The Difference

It is not glands

or tenor of voice

or fire in the eye

as she first thought.

In middle years

she learned

it was not what was funny

or what was important
or who did the most
or who was right

or who won.

She now knows

it is the disquiet
at the end of the day

while she welcomes the sunset,
enjoys the meal and then

so easily slips beneath

the quilt.

It is the need to walk

the yard in winter

planning the land

and hauling the wood

while she reads poetry

quietly in the corner chair
in the sun
anticipating spring.

It is waiting for the

phone to ring

or waiting for the

new news

or opening the mail,

While she sips tea

or red wine

and watches the same

mystery on TV once again

or enhances the photo

of her grandchild.

It is trying to change the ending

versus acceptance of the certain.

Are You Bored Yet or Just at Peace?

It is happening.
Slowly the simpleness levels you.

Smooths out all the interesting edges,
Grays down the highlights,
Fades the lowlights.
No quick intakes of breath.
No sharp laugh to stifle.

No surprise in plan.
Just smiles now.
Just yoga breathing.
And that all important focus
on what we shall cook
for dinner.

The Catbird Seat

Since we got this bird theme going I will continue in that vein.  This is where I am on certain days, the catbird seat.  Days that I visit my grandchildren I am definitely in the Catbird Seat.  The grandchildren are of that age where they will race away from the dinner table to stand in the doorway allowing cold winter winds to blow around them and into the house as they wait excitedly for us to unload the car, bring in our stuff, and hug them.

The Princess has gotten new plastic shoes that sparkle blue in the dark and both she and her brother, the Prince, each had a shoe in their hand which they would wave high over their heads from the porch doorway while they screamed our names jumping up and down with glee.  Yes, this is actual glee which is not often seen at least by me in real life.  It is very, very cool, especially when you are the cause of it.  I do not remember getting quite so much glee from my own children, now that I think about it.


If this is not the catbird seat, I do not not know where that would be.  I know that the days are not far away when these children will barely raise their eyes from a television screen or a phone screen or a computer screen to greet us with a quick smile. Precious time races on.


As I enter the house, I am trying to avoid the ice patch on the walkway and trying to hang onto the two bags I have packed and trying not to knock over the two toddlers who cannot get any closer to my legs as they try to get my undivided attention.  I am being very careful.  One heavy bag has the gift of blood oranges and ice melt, both pretty heavy, for my daughter and the other has my overnight things.  As I set down the bags, I begin to hear the endless musical blend of toddler chatter...

"Neena, (that is the name they call me) we have pork chops and beans for dinner and Princess has these new shoes-look at me walk in my shoes and the lights go bong!-come see my ball with the arms which spring open if it gets attacked or if a rock falls on it like this it just goes CRASH and rolls onto the floor-I know that 3 and 3 are six and 3 and 4 are seven-Daddy is at the hockey game-I have ants on my pajamas-I have candy on my pajama pants-we have your plate at the table-see here is your fork-are you coming to my show tomorrow?-I can brush Tinker Bell's hair with this new brush-see, Neena, see-do you want me to brush your hair?-are your sleeping in this room or downstairs?-what is that green thing in your bag?-I have to go pee-pee..."
Since these little ones are talking non-stop I fail to hear any breathing between phrases and just let the words fall about my ears like colored gum drops as I smile and kiss and oooh and ahh in all the right places.
I could sit on this Catbird perch forever.

Waxwing Update

 A note from our rescue lady:

"Update on the Cedar Wax Wing:  with several weeks of small cage rest the bird started flying from side to side, I moved the little guy out to a much larger cage and back into the weather. The bird was doing really well eating lots of his favorites, blueberries, and just about any kind of fruit. I was planning to give you a call about releasing it back down your way but…. it took off on me when I was taking something into the cage. I am sure it will do just fine; it was well feed and strong and flew up into the trees. Thank you for taking your time to help this bird and getting it to me, I am glad that it was able to be returned to the wild."

(Above are four---yes four--- waxwings hanging in the holly.  I have never seen waxwings there before and they let me get quite close to take a photo today, the same day I got the email.  I am thinking this is an omen.)

You Cannot Choose Your In-laws

My life is too short to worry about the views of others and the choices made by my adult children and minds that cannot be changed.  Anyway, my daughter was far into the relationship with my then-to-be S.I.L. before I had even met him.  But I have grown to love him in spite of our substantial differences.

He is a good Catholic (I will not even dwell on my prejudicial fears there..fears about the religion not the people) but my daughter said he did not expect her to convert.  He got a point from me for that.

He is very good looking, well groomed and extremely well-mannered.  He gets points for that although I think he does spend a little too much time on appearances.  (He even gave my 4-year-old grandson a brief lecture on the various ways hair gel can create a look before the pre-school holiday program!)  In balance, he does run and exercise to keep in shape and while vain, it means he will remain healthy into old age.

He is romantic beyond words and loves his children and wife with a passion and gets lots of points for that.

He is hard-working and a good provider and gets points for that.

He has longstanding loyal and honest friends which attests to his character.

He spends too much of his free time either playing golf, watching football or playing fantasy football on the computer...but all people have their vices and his does not involve alcohol or other women.

I did get a clue about some of our basic differences when he tried to shut off the skylight in the bathroom until my daughter explained what a skylight was!

I got another clue about our differences when he told my daughter that he felt we were somewhat prejudiced because we valued higher education so much.  (He doesn't read anything unless it is on a computer screen or in Entertainment Magazine.)

I got another clue when my daughter explained his surprise that she had such strong ethical rules and honesty standards (stronger than his) even though she did not attend church on a regular basis. (This was after he hit a car while attempting to park several spaces ahead and slightly damaging the other car's side mirror.)

I got a clue when we learned he was an ardent Republican and totally had no passion for environmental issues.  He also thought our prior president was pretty smart.

One more clue was provided recently when he told my daughter he thought we were a little strange for taking in an injured wild bird and then spending the time to drive 3o miles to a rescue shelter. 

But the final clarity of how deeply we were different came when he noticed the number of cookbooks on the shelf in my kitchen and asked why more than just one or two would ever be needed.  My life will always be spicier and more interesting and perhaps I can add just a little spice to his life.

I do think that differences in people are what help the world go round and help test our values and beliefs.  We just have to realize we cannot change people and we can only change ourselves.  (It has taken me almost my full life to learn how to live this!)


These two young people do make a well-matched couple as was in evidence when they were visiting their friends over the New Year's weekend.  They were staying up late playing cards, when the mistress of the house where they were staying saw a tiny gray mouse dart under her refrigerator and proceeded to scream in panic as she jumped on the couch.  My S.I.L. followed in like manner and with the same panic stood on a nearby chair.  My daughter and the man of the house got a broom and bucket in an unsuccessful attempt to corner the little free-loader.  There is a pattern and balance to life that works out in the end.

The Old Grand Guest

The sunrise

kissed the icy edge of the river

pink.

It glowed

with a virginal blush.

But it did not warm

or even embarrass anything.

The sky melted pink

but all else was silver gray.

The hoary breath of January

stilled all in its path.

Even the birds

trilled only once

afraid to let the cold

know where they were.

This temporary status

aches my heart

and cools my memories

and fogs my breath

and slows my bones.

This timeless visitor

has settled into the guest room

and seems to enjoy

the waiting with no

anticipation,
hanging around
like a wet gray fog.

Lost

It seems so strange to wake to a quiet and still winter morning. Somewhere down the road the workers are catching buses or driving cars heading to familiar destinations. Some hoping to change the world for the better and others just trying for one more day to get by.  Mothers and father's kiss their little ones or wave with hidden concern to their young adult children as they head out for the day.  Each busy bee is off onto their own adventures humming with caffeinated energy.  No one ever knows what this day will bring but they will face the challenge.  
In contrast at this time of day, my house is quiet until hubby lets in the monster.

The monster is loud and excited and telling another more somber story, about a place far away.  A story of sudden death and pain.  A story of falling buildings and startled screaming.  There are pictures of eyes filled with terror and blank-eyed faces covered in the dust of a destroyed city.  The story is so overwhelmingly sad.  How can people who have nothing lose even more?

These tests, are they for us...or for those who have lost precious ones?  Or are we indeed all just specs of dust under a gigantic shoe?

The Mask of Zorro - Conclusion

Having an injured bird is somewhat like having a baby in the house.  It is a continual distraction, because even if the baby is napping, it is always on your mind and you are subconsciously listening for sounds.  The photo above is the flock of waxwings that had visited my yard weeks ago.  Perhaps they were the cousins or uncle or aunts of this little one?

It was a long day and we did not reach the rescue house until way after dark.  We struggled to find our way through the nest of houses and cul de sacs in the city suburbs.  The lovely GPS our children had bought us for Christmas was no real help!  It seemed this subdivision, while not new, was off the data map and in some bird twilight zone.

Zorro seemed to be fine in the back seat although initially he was a little nervously active and I worried about him damaging more wing feathers.

As we eventually pulled into the driveway of the rescue house I saw a large furry cat sitting on a cat stand in the window.  But (fortunately) the cat quickly disappeared when I rang the doorbell, and a little lap dog greeted us with high energy, and thankfully no yapping.

Lynn, the rescue lady, takes in all kinds of birds and ends up keeping the hawks and raptors that cannot be returned to the wild as her personal mission. She has an inspiring video on her web site where she recently released a bald eagle that had been rehabilitated.  

She took Zorro and ran her fingers carefully and expertly along the wings and seemed to feel that nothing was broken.  She did explain that it was not unusual for a bird to sprain a wing while flying because of these high wind gusts.

Her laundry room was filled with a gray parrot, and two other smaller parrots that I did not recognize, that had been abandoned by incompetent owners.  While they were noisy it was not the deafening noise you normally hear in a pet store filled with parrots.

Her garage held a number of wild birds for rehabilitation including a seriously damaged Cooper's hawk that had been hit by a police car.  She kept it in a very small cage so that he would not further injure himself.  

She had prepared a little cage for Zorro but I did not take photos in order to avoid disturbing all the feathered friends nearby.

We talked birds for a little while, but we had to head to our daughter`s house in the city.  It was hard to say good-bye because we had gotten attached to Zorro and hubby had actually started negotiating with me to keep the bird before we turned him (or her) over to rescue.  We felt better to know that Zorro was in good and experienced hands.

Lynn sent an email several days later that indicated Zorro was doing fine and eating well, although still not flying but she said that she had high hopes he would repair soon.  This is a good enough ending for us for now, it will have to be.

The Mask of Zorro - Part II

It is easy to see in the above photo why I call him Zorro. I let him sleep in and didn't bring him out into the living room until 8:00 although I was very concerned about how he had survived the night. I had prepared a breakfast of chopped dates, and chopped green grapes and found some raspberry newton cookies and actually proceeded to scoop out the raspberry filling in small portions to add to this sugar fix.   I added a few chopped walnuts for fat and salt.  I am quite the gourmet bird chef when given a chance and if I had the opportunity I might expand his diet so that is would be more balanced!

He had kept the fresh water that I gave him last night poop free, so I left it alone and then slid in the plastic lid of chopped fruit. We had also given him some dried grass heads to nestle in during the night and to this I added the fragrant cedar branches that had been picked the night before so that he might feel more at home.

He looked very alert and was hopping around the cage and onto the grass sprigs. I brought him out from the laundry room and placed him near the window that frames the bird feeders in the distance and he started immediately grooming himself. Such vanity this species has!

I decided that he looked healthy enough to be set free, so I placed him in the garage to get used to the colder temperatures.  An hour later I saw a cedar waxwing high on the oak tree in my back yard and hurried into the garage to see if I could do some match-making.

I placed the cage on the deck table outside where we keep the heated water for wild birds. I slid open the bird cage door and stepped back. He looked out carefully through the opening and in a few seconds hopped to the edge of the open door. A minute after that he hopped onto to the table. He hurried to the table's edge and I could almost read his mind. He wanted so much to take off to the wonderful trees on all sides. He could not believe he was free!  He hopped to the other edge of the table and glanced up again and then waited.  After five minutes of this we realized that something was really wrong with his wing(s). He made no attempt to even jump to the deck railing although he was clearly thinking about it.

Hubby scooped him up in his hands and he carefully placed him back in the cage. I called the rescue number I had found on the Internet. After talking to the woman at the other end she told me that she keeps her rescued birds in her garage, so Zorro is going back to that climate and after hubby's dental appointment this afternoon, he is heading to this convalescent home for birds.

I will post more tomorrow.

The Mask of Zorro - Part I

We had ventured outside to replenish the food pantry, although in reality, we had enough food to last months.  Our excuse was that I was missing the essential chocolate and hubby needed to get his laptop checked as he had broken the speaker system. How did he do that you may ask?  If you saw the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding you may remember the scene where the young woman gets nervous and proceeds to walk away from her computer with her headset connected and still on her head.  Hubby did not pull the laptop off the desk during his quick retreat, but it seemed that he destroyed the plug-in port and needed to get a USB replacement.  (He is the most expensive computer user I know!) Anyway, I digress...terribly.

We went to the big box store where we could save hundreds of dollars by spending hundreds of dollars and managed in a short time to fill the shopping cart with big boxes of stuff.  Paper towels, pasta, chocolate, coffee...you know...the essentials of life.

The winter winds continued their bitter stomping through our neck of the woods and they shoved us across the parking lot like tough bullies.  Loading the car took careful speed as our fingers froze and frozen wind whipped down our necks and pulled bags from our grip.

It was on our drive home as we turned into our wooded neighborhood that we saw this wounded, or what appeared to be wounded, cedar waxwing.  He was hopping ever so slowly across the road.  He would hop once or twice and then seemed to catch his breath thinking about whether he had energy to hop again.  As we approached he stopped hopping and just sat there in the middle of the road maybe hoping his suffering would finally come to an end under the wheels of our car.  Hubby looked at me and I looked at him.  Finally I said that we needed to see if we could help. (My loyal readers will remember another encounter we had with an unexpected woods visitor here or the time we failed to help a lovely owl with an owwie which I posted on my other blog here.  I am a BIG softie for animals.)


"You get him." hubby said with decisive speed as he rubbed his hands between his legs and sat back against his seat stoically indicating he was definitely going to remain in the warmth of the car.

I opened the door and moved slowly to the front of the car expecting this fragile gift of life to fly into the sky leaving me cold and startled.  But the small bird  continued to just sit there and then surprised me by hopping across the road and with some effort toward my feet!  He stopped and actually looked up at me!  Honest!


I bent down to lift him and was very surprised that he did not struggle in anyway.  He just snuggled into the warmth of my leather gloved hands like he had come home to mama.  I returned to the car and realized that I had no hands to open the door.  Hubby had to lean across the seat and open the door.  I am thankful to have exercised recently and maintained my sense of strength and balance as stepping up into a large SUV while holding your hands out in front of you in a prayer and getting into those high seats requires considerable strength and balance.

Cedar waxwings up close are the most divinely colored birds.  They are gray and brown and yellow and even a little peach and look as though they were wrapped in the softest velvet.  They wear a dark velvet mask across their sparkling black eyes, intriguing Zorros of the bird world.  (They also are very messy if you read my post on my other blog a while back.)


This little waxwing peaked his eye through the space between my thumb and forefinger, but made no effort to push his tiny head through the opening.  He just watched my face as we headed home and made no sound.


We have a fragile bamboo bird cage that has never held a bird.  It was purchased in Indonesia or Panama...I cannot remember from which roadside stand so long ago.  It was lovelier with the natural bamboo, but I was in my cottage phase of life and painted it white and hung it covered in silk flowers in my sun room decades ago.  The cage now sits in the basement with dusty abandon.  Hubby got this cage into the garage and we released the bird inside.  I took him into the house and filled a small bowl with water.  Since we have well water, I did not have to worry about the chlorine.  Zorro proceeded to poop three times (they are from the Bombycilla family) and then jumped feet first into the small water bowl and drank heartily.

I sighed as these were good signs.  

I could study him now and saw that one of his wings looked slightly askew and showed the blood red wax tip on one of his secondaries that is the reason they got their name.

I knew that they don't eat bird seed but placed a little on the floor of the cage, just in case.  I also put in several small pieces of fresh date and dried cranberry.  Hubby went outside to find juniper berries, without success, and by the time he returned it was dark and I had place the bird on the floor of the laundry room and put a beach towel over the cage so that he would not die of stress or fear.  It is late in the evening and I have not heard a peep out of him.   If he lives, I will call the rescue office tomorrow.

Cabin Fever

This past week the days were filled with 30 mile per hour winds and temperatures that did not go above 30 F for very long.  (It seems that the entire northern hemisphere of earth did not escape this frigid freight train that was storming its way to the equator.  Even iguanas were falling out of trees in Florida like frozen gray green popsicles.)  I watched out the window at the birds darting around the feeders.  They were all puffed up like cotton balls of brown or tan or red or black as they tried to stuff themselves even more round with fatty seeds.  I was getting so tired of staring out windows.


I put on my heavy winter coat and braved the winter winds to see what was happening down on the river.  I had not been outside in three days and this indoor sentence was certainly getting on my nerves.  I steeled my courage to head outside. The back door to the deck which had not been opened in days was stuck and stiff to open.  I pulled hard and it released suddenly blowing open with the rush of bitter icy wind followed by tulip tree seeds that scattered across the carpet.

The wind whipped at my scarf and coat as I held on tight to my camera to keep it warm for just a while.  The naked branches of trees above my head danced as if in some crazy drug induced trance.  Everything was being pummeled by this arctic rush hour expressway.

I saw the scene in the photo above when I reached the river's edge.  Waves had frozen in custard layers as they grazed the shore during the night.  The tide was heading out but against the push of the wind onto the shore creating waves of ice.  Nothing was moving along the edge of the river.  Everything was still and frozen or hibernating somewhere.

A gust of wind pushed hard against my back and almost dumped me unceremoniously into the cold wet river.  I planted my feet firmly and leaned into the wind, but found it hard to keep my balance as the gusts were not predictable and I was out on the edge of the open water and not in the small shelter of the woods.

I took a few photos and then made my way back to the house.  Its warmth was certainly welcome when I opened the back door.

This cold is below the normal and seems to be going on forever.  Thankfully we have not had to contend with snow drifts or ice sheets...just endless blowing wind that was cold enough to freeze a witches...!  Spring, do not be afraid, your turn is coming.

The Drill

For those who celebrate this season of peace and love and understanding...you know the drill.  

• Brave the cold winds and bring in all the lights and faded wreath from the deck that is on the side of the house facing the angry Nor'wester.  Yes, your fingers are frozen as you try to untie the tie-holds.  Just cut them and get on with this before your thumbs web to your fingers!
• Remove the lights from the gable while your wife holds the ladder and hope she is paying attention in these high winds and be thankful that you can't hear her whining above the moan of the Norther.  Be sure to duck when that last line of lights whips across your back.
  
• Spend an hour trying to find the bag that the door wreathe goes in and try to remember where you pack the wreath hanger this time so you don't spend two days looking for it next Christmas like you did this year.
• Get the stool out and bring down all those high decorations on the mirror without breaking your neck or the mirror.
• Pack the votives that have been distributed romantically throughout the house including those with the candles you never got around to burning...maybe next year.
• Carefully take all the ornaments off the tree and pack in their correctly marked bins.  Make sure you look at the bottom layer of the bin before you fill the top layer...it IS empty and you need to start packing there.
• Take the ornament bins downstairs so you have more room to dismantle the tree.  You will have to count the number of steps (15) since you cannot see your feet around the bins stacked precariously in your arms.
  
• Label the outlets on the artificial tree (again?) so that it will go together easier next time and try to find why the second layer of lights would not light.
• Take the tree apart...it is heavy and it will require two people.  Try not to yell at each other and try not to drop one of the layers on someone's foot, particularly the heavy metal pole end.
  
• The layers of tree are much like a Chinese puzzle as they fit in the tree bag...good luck!
  
• Zip up the tree bag...unless you notice that small red bird ornament on that bottom branch that was forgotten.  Darn!  Take the ornament downstairs and put it in the bottom ornament bin after lifting off the top bin of stuff... or just stuff it into any old bin that is easy to reach.
• Drag the tree bag downstairs to the basement trying carefully not to kill each other or damage the furniture or scratch the walls or stub your toes or tear the tree bag or swear out loud.
  
• Once everything is packed away be prepared to find that forgotten silver star hanging in the guest bathroom and that home-made wreath from the church still hanging on the kitchen window! 
• Pour yourself some leftover eggnog with a stiff shot of bourbon and put your feet up, you have survived another season.