Wednesday, May 01, 2013


Back deck, swallows piecing together a nest in a roof overhang section, carpenter bees flitting and buzzing, squirrel on the bird feeder, Mercury aware and at the screen door, robins feeding on the ground, chickadees and cardinals zipping around, an occasional wasp -- the wasps haven’t stung in years so they must be non-stinging; slightly cool for me, somewhat overcast-sunny day on this half-acre site backing against woods and a power line cut; Spring, Eileen’s gardens sprouting, an easy spot to sit and let be.

Our Chattanooga house is a melange of worn carpeting, the former owners odd taste in wallpaper, Eileen’s paintings and others on the walls, my photographs, too; a mix of furniture styles, some cheap some costly; Eileen’s office (once a spare bedroom) and her studio (once the dining room) with things spread around on tables and floors, my create room (also a spare bedroom) also similarly endowed; a basement with a garage converted into a workshop, shed, bookshelves and storage space with piles of stuff on the concrete floor in disarray, with another bathroom with clothes washer and dryer and old rust-colored tile floor, and a large living space with exercise apparatus, futon, couch, more bookshelves, old computer on the old rug floor, old TV on an end table, my paintings and others on the walls.

Jillie, our other rescued dog, enters the back deck and Mercury, barking, now needs to chase the squirrel vertical and upside down on the bird feeder, both dogs rushing off the back deck. And here I write to the punctuations of a woodpecker, the sounds of bees, bird utterances and barking.

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