This morning was good. I helped someone in pain stop hurting, I got food to a hungry family with no money, I told a woman who suggested I was cruel to Zip to blow it out of her ass, and I felt great about doing it.
My morning sit with the birds has become a thing, a morning meditation. I sit outside Maria’s studio, where the bird feeders are. The Blue Jays are not intimidated by me; they chase all the other birds off and chow down. This is a beautiful way to start the day, as chilly as it is today.
Zip has never lived inside a house which fits him fine: snow and cold light him up.
When I trekked out with the camera this morning, I was shivering. The sun had just come up, and Zip was pleased to lie down on the cold skate—there were blankets in his box a few feet away. When I scratched his neck, his fur was shockingly surprisingly warm. No fools, cats.
The donkeys soak up the sun like the cats. As long as the son is out, they are out.
In the winter, the hens gather beneath the bird feeder. Great seeds are dropping out of the sky.
Uncle Jo, as we call him, asked for a beautiful day. He got one.
The Blue Jay should have spent more time chasing a finch away from the feeder.
