The Writhing Mass

These birds will not let me go!  I finally got dressed.  This house of mine is so freezing cold– old drafty house, it’s always hard to get dressed…everything icy cold…

Looked out and the starlings starlings starlings, filled the bird bath, filled the lawn, filled my trees, sat on the electric wire like Hitchcock’s birds.

There were nine or ten starlings splashing in the bird bath. Frantically splashing , water spilling over the grass, splashing in the air— then they formed a dark mass and they were splashing and moving so fast they looked like a black snake swimming around in circles…. then more birds came,  like whirling dervishes.  I was transfixed.  Birds electrifying, crazy in the water, other birds circling overhead, starlings pecking them away while they were splashing, some were hovering in mid flight over the water, a dark whirl of bodies and feathers… then swoosh a bright blue dazzling light like sky and wind swooped in and all the starlings flew away en masse as though by magic… it was a blue jay, big bold blue jay like Quetzalcoatl the Aztec God, come to take his throne again….  when you haven’t seen a blue jay in a while the sight is spectacular– it was cinematic this show of birds today.. I have to leave the house because I am glued to the windows….what you can see sometimes from a little window into the garden…

I filled the bird bath again with a huge pot of water.  I turned around, they’re back…. the starlings splashing again like mad men.. perhaps it is the last splash, the last party, the last washing before the great white and icy winter….

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 love food. But then food is a whole other world.... I think the world has gone mad 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. They always bring joy. 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. And that walk each and every day in my little paradise.. because that is what gardens are.... brings me almost complete joy... My blog is whennothingworks because for a long time nothing has worked. Friends, family, jobs, money, 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. And, in my garden, I can sit quietly and think, or just breathe, and somehow manage to survive the world.
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