“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


sunday with birds and bare feet

there were so many birds in the front yard this morning that the cat just turned away.  at first she was out and into them, cardinals and crows and what sounded like thousands of robin redbreasts, but the selection was just too much.  too overwhelming.  like trying to find the perfect salsa at whole foods with an entire aisle of the stuff stretching before you; no way to make a decision.  you just grab a jar of pace's and go.

yesterday was one japanese yellow apple, which katie steams and sprinkles with saigon cinnamon.  it was an espresso cup, white, edged in pale teal, thai chilis and dark chocolate.  it was sunshine and no jacket needed.  this morning was birds, and this afternoon also, us sitting on the stairs behind katie's business, the song of sparrows in the bushes, the flutter of wings in the birdbaths.

it is that moment in february when we begin to see promises of spring down the road, temperatures all weekend in the low low 70s, with rumors that the week ahead will be the same.  70, 71, 71, 73, etc., etc., all the way to next weekend.  bicycles appear on the street, strollers, joggers, no one bundled against winter.  we begin to talk of baseball.  it is a moment that will pass - we carry jackets in our cars, gloves stashed in their pockets, and i never put boots back in the closet (though, in truth, i never put shoes back in the closet, or flipflops, at least not the shoes i slip in and out of everyday; they are scattered all about the house and i know where each pair is).  from experience i know this back and forthness of weather will continue on until baseball season begins, and also from experience i know i will too-soon disconnect heaters and then shiver through the bits of cold the beginning of april will bring as surprises.

it is 7 pm, and they say it is still 70° outside, but inside it feels cooler and my toes are chilly.  skye cat is asleep on the couch, on the left side she has stolen from me, where she usually scrunches between my thigh and the couch's arm, and i am awake on the bed, contemplating lighting a fire before night moves all the way in.  this house is hard to heat - a good thing most of the year, but an iffy thing the rest of the time, and especially so when the weather falls into springlike posture.  we will see - i am still in bare feet and sleeveless shirt.  perhaps just socks instead of a fire.



  1. ..ah, spring. spring? at the moment in my farmhouse tucked into huge snowbanks, the snow is coming down hard enough I can't see the barn. 'they', those predictors, are saying another 6 inches or so tonight with strong winds. i frown. spring is a long off hope. often, this far down in winter, it occurs to me the snow will stay forever and i will never see grass again. you took me there, if only in thought and my usual barefeet are housed in heavy hunting socks against the cold. bare feet are always the best!

  2. You've painted such a beautiful picture of the back and forth of winter to spring. It makes me thinks of the fits and starts (I just wrote stars and had to correct!), the fits and starts of any transition - there is always a little of the thing you are leaving behind mixed in with the new. Maybe it's nature's way in nature and in life, to temper the change a bit, instead of hurling us straight into the new. Probably, nature is making sure we don't get the bends.

  3. this is like a dream, one that i keep dreaming... though last night, I dreamed of dessert, and funny, because it was the same thing, they were everywhere and i couldn't decide, i kept going back and looking at all the choices. in the end, i don't think i tasted anything.

    thank you, for this brief moment in which spring had arrived, i could see it smell it hear it and though i kept my socks on, i could see the days ahead when barefoot will be possible.

    soak up a little sun for me. xo


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