Isolating and sheltering in place is not an onerous burden on me; writers tend to be that way in any event. But the getting out, the behaving (and misbehaving)—not that I would, but it’s knowing I can’t that gets me all het up. Can’t go to the café for a coffee and local gossip, can’t go to the tavern for a beer and few laughs, can’t go to the local high school softball game, can’t go to the nearby national park, can’t go bowling, can’t go to the library, and so on and so forth.
But nothing will take away my mornings. This time of year mornings usually begin with the hooded orioles because I can take care of their needs while I’m still in pajamas and slippers. So I spoon out their daily diet of grape jelly, but if I see they are low on sugar water due to the hummingbirds with their raging thirst stealing it, hummingbirds who also, when the oriole’s jelly liquifies, steal that, too, (this year for some reason the hummingbirds have become right wingers and not very welcoming to our migrant neighbors from Mexico) I have to ramp up production of their special juice—one cup of sugar per four cups of water, bring to a boil for four minutes, let cool.
I’m not religious, but this music on this program is awesomely inspiring and uplifting and vibrant. The show airs from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. Pacific Time. I don’t know if you can listen to it some other way, but here’s the link to the radio station’s player. Thank you Jesus.
(Audubon Society photo)