Playtime

It is the season of crows and blackbirds.  Every nearby tree and wire is filled with these noisy birds, all yelling at the top of their lungs.  I've often wished for a translator; the crows in particular definitely have an extensive vocabulary and I'd love to know what they're saying.  The temperature took a dive yesterday, enough that I shut the front door and lit the wood stove as a cloud cover moved in.  The almond tree in the old orchard has burst into blossom and the forsythia on the deck is full of yellow flowers, both way too early in this pseudo spring.  Sure enough, the breeze kicked into overdrive in the afternoon and became a very strong wind without direction.  It blew one way and then another and it seemed prudent for me to move the deck furniture for protection before the wind moved it into the yard.  Groups of small birds with a strong tailwind zipped past the windows like squadrons of fighter jets.  It is always the crows who get the most fun on a windy day.  They launch from tall branches and spread their wings to go parasailing where the wind takes them, swooping, turning, rising higher and higher in the airstream.  This behavior seems to have no purpose other than carefree play.

The wind blew most of the night.  It's still dark so I don't know if any of the tree or bush flowers survived.  I don't hear any wind at the windows, so I guess playtime is over for the crows.

Wouldn't you just know that I got a phone call yesterday and missed it?  Worse yet, my friend texted me down in the barn to tell me I'd missed it.  Fortunately, I did get to hear Gammy play the Valkyrie song later in the day.  The caller wanted to know why I answered the phone laughing.  Phone time is now my playtime.