“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


Some February Love for the Small Things

This morning,
the cawing of a crow,
shadows stretching across AC's back yard,
A few robins.
A cat asleep in front of the fire.
Yesterday a redtailed hawk low over the house.
I think spring is coming, memsahib.

My facebook status this morning.

I was awake early, pulling my white slipcover (thank you Rachel Ashwell for the white denim Target version) from the dryer, struggling it back onto the couch, enticing Maggie to eat, she on the washing machine, then she off the washing machine, a jump that hurt her, a back leg injured, so off to sleep in front of the fire, and I admit I leaned my head against the couch as I struggled and pulled and pinned (don't tell anyone) and I cried. The little things just do me in, and it seems lately my life is full of little things just waiting to pounce, and I've always disagreed with that don't sweat the small stuff philosophy; I figure you should - the big stuff I worry less about, I always know what to do about the big stuff, it always works itself out or not, and usually there's not much you can do about it anyway. So I try to take care of the small stuff, God is in the details and all that.

The small things this morning were the cawing of that crow - it's been a long time since I've heard that, I think the West Nile virus hurt them, but they are back, I see more & more of them, and it made me rush to the windows and out into the yard, but it was an elusive or invisible crow, and I never saw it. The small things were the way the shadows of the trees open their arms to the day and stretch across the street, across AC's yard, up the walls of his house, like a welcome, like a hug. The small things were the squirrels, of which we have tons, skittering across tree limbs and across the grass - the bare trees let me see past AC's backyard, into Mary Lou's and beyond, and I can watch the squirrels from here on the couch all the way to there. The small things were cardinals, bright red spots here and there, and if close enough, I could make out the less flashy females, a male always nearby. The small things were the robins again, trees full of them when I opened the blinds, but they've moved on a bit, spread out, and more small things were sparrows flitting around.

There is birdsong everywhere.


  1. sounds like you are embracing the small stuff and all it's beauty....and tears for that is perfectly normal....

    and tears over the damn slipcover not going back on easily....oh girl, I hear you on that one, with a loud "give me a break already"

  2. birdsong is a positive and beautiful sound.
    love those embracing shadows too

  3. Slipcovers are the bane of man's existence - they are such a pain to put back on. Tears are perfectly understandable. I will say, though, that I want to get some of the stretch kind, but I would need about $400 to do all of my furniture and I just don't have it. Oh well, they will just have to look like a scratching post for a while longer.

    I love birdsong in the early morning - such a pleasant way to start the morning. The finches we have here I adore. And the chickadees - they're so cute. I had a hawk on my back fence last fall. I was thankful that Buddy was in the backyard with Buster, afraid that the hawk might think Buster would make a good meal. =)

  4. As I read, I am preparing to get out for my climb, where the small stuff, even the smallest piece of moss, the slightest breath of wind brings about greater meaning.

    I am so glad someone has finally challenged that *don't sweat the small stuff* idea. I am with you. The little things mean everything.


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