fireun | (no subject)

I am fairly sure my downstairs neighbors must think I am touched. On my way back from the post after work, I stopped at the wild bird supply store, which is finally up and mostly running again after being washed out by the flood. I gathered some more feeders and supplies for the grapevine arbor that came with the new apartment (pictures tomorrow, when it is not so dim out) and came home to rearrange the old and hang the new. My resident group of fearless chickadees was in attendance and could hardly wait for me to be done before starting to snack. Chickadees are quite adorable to watch, especially as they flit in and out of an ancient grapevine armature, so I settled down in the dusk and watched them for a bit.

Rump on the grass, work clothes on, minus a coat, grinning happily at tiny birds that were probably not visible from the house.

I can't wait until the weather turns back towards spring and summer and I am sitting out there under the arbor writing at all hours. I am slowly cultivating that spot into my writing/ritual area. It has such a wonderful air about it, and the vines are full of artifacts of previous tenants- little bird houses, ornaments, even some lights.

It's a special place, and it is my turn as caretaker. I guess the neighbors will just have to deal with a fairly fey view for a bit. All the yards here are quite open.