Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

The photo is of the Carolina Chickadee nesting in our backyard. I’m not sure which it is, the female or the male. We hope they’ve got their clutch full by now, and are looking forward to seeing how the babies will thrive.

This morning, we chased balloons from the Kentucky Expo to the Water Tower. From there, we watched them fly over the river and land in Indiana. A gorgeous morning for the Great Balloon Rush-Hour Race. Balloons are a happy thing. Last September, we chased balloons from Bowman Field to some unsuspecting neighborhood way on the other side of town. This is a photo from that chase:

Saturday night, my Powerbook started freezing up. That lasted until yesterday, when I found the apparent cause and corrected it. (A loose Airport Extreme card.) It was more of an opportunity to obsess about something else than it being a panic problem. Because I have redundant backup systems, I wasn’t
worried about losing any files.

The niggling thought was that the PB failure was timely. I had promised my compadre, MBH, I would get him a copy of my
play by the 25th (uh, that’s today, as I write this entry). I need to get this off my plate, and give some attention to a joint project we are working on. As long as
the PB didn’t work properly, I could obsess about fixing it, and hold
on to the play. Reluctance to let go, and all that.

Still, it’s good to rest the writing mind, and focus on unrelated things. In those moments, inspiration bubbles forth, and new lines of dialog or action are created.

So, back to it. The day is early still.

Last year someone told me if I put up a bluebird nest box, bluebirds would nest in it. Falling for the bait, I read a lot about bluebird houses, where to position them, when to put one up, how to protect it against house sparrows and snakes, and installed one in the backyard. Then we waited. We got mealworms, hoping the wiggly things would catch the bluebirds’ attention.

Nearly every bird in Louisville has been in our backyard. ‘Cept them bluebirds.

A few days ago, a pair of Carolina Chickadees ate up the mealworms, and moved into the nest box. These are tiny, handsome birds. In just four days, they took an empty box and built a moss nest.

Uh, I suppose that’s what is meant by “busy little bird.” *ahem*

Well, I was very impressed. We’re still moving furniture around.

Two days after finishing up the nest, the first egg came. Some five to eight eggs may get laid in the nest. I’ve calculated she should be up to three by now.

The egg is that white round thing to the left. It has red-brown spots on it. (You may have noticed, my photography skills have yet to improve.)

Okay, so Project Feederwatch is over. Now, NestWatch is on.

A year ago, we landed in Louisville. A year ago, I knew nothing about Bluebird conservation, Chickadees, moss nests, or mealworms. A year ago…

From November through the end of March, we participated in Project Feederwatch, a winter-long survey of birds visiting backyard feeders. It’s an easy way to help out all those ornithological-scientifical-people track what’s happening to bird populations. Stuff like, are migrations of certain birds being disrupted (perhaps by environmental changes)? Or like, what’s up with bird flu? All we gotta do is count the birds, two days a week, for as little or as long as we want.

‘Course now all we do is watch them without purpose.

This morning, a female Hairy Woodpecker came by to feed. This is our first spotting of the Hairy. Our backyard has hosted Red-Bellied, Red-Headed, Downy Woodpeckers, and Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers. Mostly we see a very aggressive Red-Bellied at our seed feeders. The Downys have disappeared. While they were here, they fed at the suet feeder.

I don’t keep a bird list. I don’t keep a lot of lists. In fact, I hate lists. I just enjoy the birds. They help me to pause. Pausing is good for you. A couple of weeks ago, while walking our Dog in Cherokee Park, we came across over 20 Robins standing still. They looked as if they were taking a collective moment of silence. We, and the Robins stood still for what seemed like five minutes. Maybe it was only one. It felt like five. Me watching, the Dog wondering what was so great about not being able to chase the Robins, the Robins standing still, listening I suppose for worms or something else edible.  Then in unison, the Robins started moving again, and the Dog was relieved for us to be on our way.

Today I wrote one complete sentence. Too easily the birds outside my writer’s room distracted me. I was glad to see them, because they haven’t been around much this week, causing a lot of worries in my home.

The first visitor, that drew my attention away from the keyboard, was a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker. It appeared long enough, clinging to the drainpipe outside my window, for me to identify it. No joke. Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers are real birds (that’s for you non-birders). I’d never seen one before, and I needed my Sibley’s for help. Inspired by the one bird, I picked up my binoculars, sat back in my chair, and watched for what else might be perching nearby. Pleasantly rewarded with many familiar feathers, I watched for a very long time. The birds, usually daily visitors to our backyard feeders, haven’t been visiting much this week, despite the tempting new treats we’ve been leaving for them. We’ve been very perplexed and sad about their absence.

With a great flourish, the birds left, and I understood why when, in a neighboring tree, I saw the hawk watching the feeders below. We will have to remove our feeders for a few days, in hopes of helping
the hawk to move on. As magnificent as the hawk is we don’t intend to provide an easy, one-stop swoop for prey. If I hadn’t indulged bird watching this morning, it might have been quite some time before we understood the hawk was keeping the birds away. (Yeah, come on, you know creative inspiration works like that, too.)

I spent more time watching the hawk, followed by even more time trying to get a decent photo of it. I did not succeed, as I may have mentioned before what a bad photographer I am. By the time the Beloved stepped in, ever hopeful she can make a
photographer out of me, the hawk moved on to another part of the
neighborhood.

It may have been a Sharp-Shinned Hawk. I’m not positive. From the front it looks like a Cooper’s. From the back a Sharp-Shinned.

All this bird business nourishes my spirit, and in turn, somewhat unintentionally, provides pieces of inspiration.

These last few days of 2007 are a time for me to slow down, to stop watching over my plays, yeah, like a hawk. The last couple of months, I have pushed too hard, gotten caught up in worry over readings and possible productions, and squeezed the joy and satisfaction out of my writing. I love writing too much to divest it of life.

I am at peace with my one complete sentence. It’s time to reflect on where I am, to enjoy the family time, all the holiday madness, to waste time with the birds, let go of deadlines, and enjoy what’s in front of me.

Two and half weeks ago, the four of us arrived safely in Louisville. While our Dog ponders when we will actually go back home, our Cat has embraced the entire adventure. Despite having many comfortable places to sleep, she has taken up residence in, of course, a moving box.

The unpacking task feels endless, and we need some electrical work done before the computer room/work space is fully functional. The laundry room finally gets hooked up today.

Three out of four of the Beloved’s Brothers have already been to visit, as have her Parents, niece and nephews. A San Francisco friend will be passing through in a week. Visitors, family always welcome here. A needed break from the unpacking.

In order to transfer my driver’s license, I need a social security card, so a replacement card is in order. When-oh-when was the last time I saw or used my SSN card? Thirty years ago maybe? Oh dear. Once the plumber has left, off to the SSN office I go.

I’ve never lived in a place where the neighbors actually knocked on the door and said things like, “Welcome,” and invited us out to dinner. In San Francisco, we knew our neighbors, ate dinner with them. It took many months for that to happen, however. Our SF next door neighbor hopes another nice lesbian couple buys our house. And now that we are gone, we hear we were the “most loved couple” on our block. A mythology begins!

I have dropped the word “normal” from my vocabulary. Chaos is the word of my days.

We’ve carved out some sanity AKA “A Box Free Zone” in the kitchen. I take much solace in the morning coffee and New York Times.

Last week, at 6 AM, we snuck into Churchill Downs to watch the horses work out. The Beloved is expert at looking like she belongs wherever she has crashed. For a good forty-five minutes, it was just us in the stands watching the horses on the track, and that was, well, cool.

In my Western world, horse racing is not meant to be as dignified as it is here. And at the other extreme, it is not meant to be an amateur drinking event. There is much for this Californian to adjust to.

These last few weeks mark the longest period, some ten years or so, I have not been putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboard. Writing. Working on a play.

Last week, a new play idea took root. Today, I’ll finally turn my attention to the play I began last year and have not yet finished.

And did I mention the birds? Always singing here. In quantities so unlike my San Francisco backyard, where I had one hummingbird (sometimes two), a handful of Chickadees, a blue jay, a occasional Junco, some seagulls, and always a murder of crows.

We love our new home. A block from the park, although the neighborhood feels like a park to this SF transplant. Both Cat and Dog have discovered the colony of squirrels.

This morning, a Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, three Robins, a plethora of house sparrows, four Northern Cardinals, and many as yet to be identified feathered creatures.