It’s like pulling teeth with
my naked fingers, but slowly, painfully, a chapter of Tying the Knot (which name may be changed to Goodbye Crewel World) is taking shape in the form of a New Year’s
Eve poker game. I’m almost afraid to
mention it, for fear it will scare the words away.
There’s a red fox in the
neighborhood. The crows have his number;
I was alerted to the fox’s presence by the crows screaming vituperation at him
as he slunk across a neighbor’s lawn early one morning. I’ve seen him twice, he’s a beautiful red
color. Maybe he’s why I haven’t seen
many rabbits this spring and summer.
It’s interesting to note the way wild animals are reclaiming territory
humans ran them out of long ago. When I
was a child (I’m in my seventies) city dwellers never saw a raccoon raiding
their garbage cans like they do now.
Also lately there are urban coyotes and their dangerous new cousin the
coyote-wolf crossbreed, and even the occasional bear. Maybe it’s because we’re cleaning up the
environment, or because we’ve stopped shooting them on sight.
I’m having a spell of “I want
that, but I can’t have it.” There’s a
counted cross stitch kit for sale in two catalogs that makes me laugh when I
see it. It’s actually on the cover of
one of them. It depicts a peacock who
looks like he’s been through a battle.
His feathers are disordered, half his tail is missing or the feathers
broken, even those little things that stand up on his head are messy. His eyes are staring. He’s vastly different from the proud, elegant
bird you normally see in pictures. He
looks like I’ve felt some mornings. I’d love him on a sweatshirt. But the kit (and I don’t like kits) costs
fifty dollars – and, anyway, I’ve no talent for counted cross stitch. My fingers itch to try him, but experience
says Not A Chance.
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