Playing with the Birds, part 2

Spring took a break and April showers marched their way through our yard. I learned that dandelions bloom faster than daffodils, and local squirrels have a taste for crocuses. But even the squirrels (and birds) hid when the rain hit its worst.


On a rare day of sunshine, I planted irises, donated by a generous neighbor. Hooked on success when  their leaves still looked alive (and the tubers hadn’t been pulled out by squirrels or birds), I tackled weeds (and errant dandelions) in the gray of the following day. Then it rained again. And then, ah folly, I tried to pull more weeds and rediscovered why I hated mud pies as a kid.

I remember being told all kids love mud. Not me; not mine. Finger painted aroused all my distaste for feeling messy. But I never intended to give my kids the same hangups. I pretended enthusiasm with glee and they burst into tears. “Not like mess.” They never enjoyed muddy yardwork either. But the birds thought it was great.

So, back to those birds. Crows are loud, large, and threatening. Small bright-colored friends watch from branches and tweet random numbers of notes (not characters). Huge blue birds shout at squirrels who shout back. And they all fly up in a cloud when dogs walks past.

Dogs are the best bit or yardwork. Mud is the worst. And twitter might still be my friend. My Klout score has reached an amazing 62, though I’m not sure who I’ll klout with it–maybe the crows if they threaten me again. The score certainly seems to be related to tweets and retweets. So now I’m twittering 140 character fiction, writing kids’ stories, dreaming a novella, editing two novels, and reading…

…and gardening.



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