“You didn’t see the pictures?” I asked.
“Yeah, I saw the pictures. But no text.”.
“Did you read the title? It says Photo Essay.”
We had a laugh.
I had a lot I wanted to write about last weekend but the pictures of the bird feeder captured what I was feeling that I couldn’t (still can’t) find words to express.
Since I was last home, Ciocia Felicia hot glued an aluminum pan to the bottom of the bird feeder- a wider base for the birds to rest while they ate. I was drawn to the tied twine over the roof. It was hard to tell whether the roof was holding up the floor or if the floor and twine was keeping the roof from blowing off. Either way, it was fortified.
At first I was puzzled by this. Wouldn’t the wide, flat base invite a squirrel to set up a lawn chair on it? Wouldn’t it gorge away on seeds like the way someone at the beach reaches down into a bag of chips?
“No squirrel.” Ciocia said. Apparently, they don’t have the palate for Wild Bird seed.
I flew home to help take care of my Dad, while my Mom and Ciocia had a respite weekend at a casino-complete with tickets to the Farewell Glen Campbell tour. A Christmas gift from our family. May the record state that my mother who usually goes to bed at 7pm stayed out until 3:30am. When they called to tell me this they were giggling like girls at a sleep over. I got to spend quality time with my Dad. Heard a new story about the house he grew up in in Poland.
I hope I have this energy at age 73 and age 85. I hope I have my father’s grace when I am thrown into things beyond my control.
The high winds battered the feeder the next day. I went outside to fix it. It had flipped up on the corners where there was no twine. The glue came undone on the edge.
I stood there reshaping the aluminum, trying to make the floor straight again. I did the best I could.
The house swung from its hook in the wind.