And now, the starlings

I am still in this robe, I can’t seem to do anything…. except watch these birds.

Went to wash the dishes and saw them again from the kitchen window through the evergreen branches and I ran again to watch them more closely. A bathful of starlings. All frantically splashing and chasing away each and every bird that comes near them.  A whole bucketful of them in there, with their slightly garish, speckly, sparkly dark markings.  Or all over the lawn like wicked dark glitter, pecking at something in the hard grass.  Spilled all over the garden now as though dropped from the heavens.

Then a starling alone splashing away like the robin before it.  Then a robin comes flying up to the bird bath and in mid-flight the starling pecks it away.  All the scared wary busy little birds flying in and out screeching and squawking and bowing and flying and  sipping and bathing.  I feel crazy watching them.  I feel happy.  I want to run out like a child and play with them.  For all their fighting they seem happy in my garden, they don’t fly away all the time like birds generally do.  Sometimes when I come near to change the water, just sometimes, they stay where they are. One day maybe, if I sit or stand there one day, very quiet, very still they may just say something.

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About O

I live in a suburb of an American City. I write to try and understand myself and the world around me. I love nature, art, music, literature and beauty in all its forms. I think the world is crazy and many of us will soon go insane from living in this world. What I love almost more than anything is my garden. I love its trees its shrubs and its many flowers. I love the birds, their flying and singing and dancing movements in and out of the sky and garden. Their freedom. I could watch birds all day long, though sometimes they act horribly, and fight and squabble over the birdbath, seeds, and space just like people. As do other animals, and sometimes you wonder if anger, violence, greed and chaos, really has to be part of life, and why. I love to work in my garden. To get muddy and dirty, digging, weeding, mowing, pruning and deadheading. Then, I like to have a cool glass of white wine or red, or sometimes a Manhattan, and drink in hand, I walk around and look at the fruits of my labor. My blog is whennothingworks because for a long time nothing has worked. Friends, family, jobs, money, fame, houses, careers, lovers, things--- it all just doesn't work sometimes, or most of the time. The garden always works. Nature and its beauty always work. Whatever your garden is and wherever it is. My garden always gives peace, delight, calm, majesty, and beauty. And, in my garden, I can sit quietly and think, or just breathe, and somehow manage to survive the world.
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