This morning, I awoke twice: before the birds began chirping, around 4:30, then again at 6:45. Another gorgeous Saturday morning. Temperature in the mid-60s (Fahrenheit), gentle breeze rustling the leaves, happy little birds holding another Sunrise Concert. Actually, they might not have been all that happy - I read somewhere that most of that early morning chirping is about marking territory, and the more threatened the bird feels, the more it chirps. Whatever the reason, it sounded great.
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Then I let the cats out. Concert stopped. Three blue jays swept down from the red oak screeching their "CAT! CAT! CA-A-A-T!" alarm call, and all hell broke loose!
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Every bird in the back yard congregated in the three or four trees near the side gate, giving the terrified cats (who had stopped dead in their tracks and stayed that way) the fright of their lives. I suspect this has happened before because not a hair moved on them, that I could see. Their radar-like ears were pointed forward, not a twitch between them.
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Before the cats could make a graceful exit, or even sit down, the crows arrived, all seven of them squawking and croaking bloody murder. Smaller birds gave up their perches for the Enforcers, but joined in as best they could with their own scolding calls. What cacophony!
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I ran for my recorder, thinking this noise would make a wonderful background sound for the blog. Where had I put it? Shoot! Batteries are dead! Where is that new multi-pack I bought last month? Oh, no! There's corrosion on the one terminal...no wonder the thing doesn't work. Gotta clean that before I put new batteries in. Where are those darned cotton-swabs? I check both bathroom closets with no luck, so I dampen a paper towel with some white vinegar (which works like a charm, by the way) and wipe it clean.
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Can't find my glasses, so I can't see which way the batteries are supposed to go in...oh, wait...the flat end goes against the spring and the terminal (obviously--duh!) goes in the other end.
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As I'm rushing toward the back door, rejuvenated recorder in hand and recording perfectly, I trip over one of the cat toys and bang against the screen door. Recorder falls to the floor, case cracks open when it hits the floor. Batteries roll off in opposite directions.
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Outside, the cats leap up as if they'd been goosed, the small birds flap as fast as possible back to their territorial perches and the crows move higher into the sassafras. Scolding the cats is over, as is the Sunrise Concert.
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It is now 6:50 AM. How could so much chaos take place in less than five minutes?
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Upon examination, I see the recorder isn't damaged too much. I can fix the crack with duct tape. I'm out of the pink tape so I'll have to use the purple. (Listen, duct tape is a girl's best friend - that, and a .44!)
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After collecting cat toys and stray batteries - and my composure - my stomach Beast begins to rumble a little. Not quite the "Feed me" rumble, but I know it's coming, so I head to the 'fridge to see what we can have for breakfast.
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"Breakfast?" Beast asks, slowly rising from its bed at the bottom of my stomach. "Did you just think the word 'breakfast'?"
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Am I not standing in front of the Major Food Shrine, I respond, rather sarcastically. Can you not see its 15-watt glow, feel its 35F coolness?
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The Beast rumbles hard against my diaphragm. Urrrrrrp!
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Sliced ham, eggs, bread, butter and grape jelly. Oh, yes...grated Asiago cheese, left over from a previous meal. The coffee I started as soon as I came downstairs this morning has finished dripping, so we're in good shape. A feast for the Beast!
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The chives in my herb bed have flowered, which means they are long past cutting stage, heading for seed formation and withering, so I cut a few stems to put in the eggs. Ham gets diced, as do the chive stems and flowers. They are mixed in with the scrambled eggs and cheese, poured into hot butter in my favorite skillet; toast is dropped, coffee mug filled.
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Eggs cook and are plated with a few seconds to spare before the toast pops up. The feast is assembled and I take it to the back room, where that gentle breeze I mentioned before brings into the room the early morning aromas of other feasts being cooked in other homes down the block.
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Life is so damned good, I can hardly stand it!
(c) 2009 Photo and text. Martha McLemore
Dream
