Sunday, January 27, 2008

This and That

Early morning, and Caspar and I have donned coat and sweater. We open the door, - the cat scoots by us, but Caspar hesitates on the top step, not just sure where the next little leap is going to take him. He is blind, but a brave little dog, and eventually he skitters down, playing leap frog over the last step.

There is no wind, but a pleasant chill in the air. A fleeting sunrise bathes the Cawston Hills.

Southward the clouds end at the border, over Chapaka.

As Caspar and I start our walk, and Callie the Cat disappears into the remnants of the garden, I hear a horse cough in the distance, - a plaintive complaint about dry hay which yet contains a dream of the lush pastures of spring.

Later in the day I drive home from town, up the lane and past the orchard, (listening to some toe tapping Cafe Jazz on the new Sirius Radio which arrived under our Christmas tree).

I note that the notorious Orchard Bar has re-opened it's doors to a raucous band of starlings, imbibing on frozen fermented apples and indulging in other decadent pleasures. They were looking very sleek and spiffy, even without their yellow summer bill. I stopped the car to watch the shenanigans, and they were having such a gay time not one even took notice and flew away. No startled starlings amongst the chattering assembly, but lots of table hoppers, going from tree to tree.

This morning a great flock of these bar dandies flew up from the orchard and over the pasture. It was remarked at the breakfast table that 'from where we sat they appeared to be somewhat hung over'.

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