Wednesday, March 19, 2025, 29*
Fumbled to see my watch charging on the nightstand...2:39; as I rearranged my pillow, “What was that?” Reached for the lamp that stands beside the bed, couldn’t grasp its cylindrical body nor find the light extending from the matte black movable arm. Oh. So, the light has been knocked over its weighted base not enough to prevent a fall.
Down the hall past another bedroom a light shone from the ceiling, a light I had not left on—an odd glow getting brighter then, dimmer like a creature from a science fiction movie. Later, I realized when I heard the first chirp, the guaranteed 10-year smoke detector battery replaced not so long ago isn’t going to last one year. Perhaps the light itself commands the energy.
Gray silk this morning, silvery not dull, not dark although it’s not bright hanging behind the trees, sheltering the house hanging like a cloth over a birdcage. Patchy dense fog dispensed in the Special Weather Statement still has a few more hours to arrive; only gray, a gray silk morning and that incessant interrupting annoying chirp.
Yesterday I heard more than one Belted Kingfisher. They will be digging shallow burrows by the stream that feeds the pond. I hope they are not too eager to begin. Not a songbird, their call more like the winding of a rusty clock punctuated at times by a sharp zeep. I wonder how they protect their eggs, their young from the Great Blue Heron.
There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every affair under the heavens.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 NABR
ART: LJ Austin
