Mid-Winter Brambly Chests

Going to try this from the app rather than the browser so that I can upload images. So this is a bit of a test. 

I woke up this morning to a thicket of brambles grown into my throat and chest. It seems that even reclusive ways of life are not enough to escape the grips of cold season. I don’t know how Jack and I picked this nonsense up but whoever is to blame owes us vegetable pho. And a pound each of turmeric and garlic. 

And a refill of mint tea. As interest. 

The worst part is just being laid up. It’s not the nightmare flu that’s going around; neither of us has a fever or chills, but the soreness in my chest and lack of energy and swimmy head are just enough to keep doing much of anything at bay and it's driving me bonkers sitting around all day. Especially since the weather is having a warm spell that would be good for taking Brógan out.

I did get some painting done throughout the day though. This current one is taking ages - in part because of the holidays, but mostly because I'm not particularly fond of it so the work is more cumbersome than usual. I have my first solo show coming up in two months, and I have to have all the work done by mid February so it can be framed. As is usual for me, the more the pressure grows, the less I am likely to do the work. Logic. 

(Tipper’s favourite thing in the universe right now is rolling around tugging at hoodie strings while I try to paint. And drinking watery paint out of the palette. And scattering all of my brushes at night so I have to hunt for each one in the morning. She outsmarts every attempt I make at preventing this.)

On the bright side, we finally had a new visitor to our feeder today; a mourning dove, come to eat the seed I spread on the cement wall of the porch. I was so excited about it that I even called Jack over to see. If this were the house I grew up in it wouldn't be noteworthy - they were daily visitors at the ground below the feeders at my family's house. Only the red-breasted gosbeaks, orioles, hummingbirds, juncos, and rare redpolls would merit a summoning of viewers. The doves, bluejays, goldfinches, chickadees, nuthatches, titmice, those lovely red-headed house finches, and robins were unremarkable - oh what I would give to see them now. 

The sparrows’ wee chirps are very sweet though, and I appreciate them anyway. 

Come to think of it, I can't recall my parents getting an outstanding amount of house sparrows at all. A few, mixed in with tree sparrows, but not at all the amount we get. In the summer we get a few grackles and starlings, but it's been exclusively house sparrows otherwise. I partially blame the tree cover; there isn't much of it at our house, no security for the shy-er birds. Then the density of our neighborhood and overall lack of woody cover and natural plant life; houses very close together with tiny barren gardens, limited natural habitat for them. We keep the feeder at the front porch where we can see it - it would make no difference in the tiny back garden anyway. Tippercat enjoys it too - her chosen spot for snoozing is atop the sofa at our big front window, with its premium view. Today she started chattering at them as well.

This is my life from the sofa: Brógan's snores, Tipper's chattering, and house sparrows. I have nothing better to talk about. Here's to hoping these brambles clear soon so we can play outside again.