This past weekend Jack and the boys cut down a tree in the bed in front of the porch. It had to go. The tree was getting too tall and large. It was blocking the front of the house, and was leaning forward, away from the house, so was going to fall sooner or later, and take out the shrubs and bushes.
The sparrows used to hang out in that tree by the dozens. It was a great vantage point, from which they could see the entire street, in every direction. It also provided them shelter, broke the wind on winter days, gave them shade on summer days.
I used to lay by the window some mornings and watch and listen to them. It was best in the winter, on sunny days. Their brown feathers seemed were so vibrant in the bare tree, the white background. Their songs were always so sweet to my ears. Now their songs are more shrill, confused. Soon they will b gone, to find new trees. I will miss them.
No naps for me lately. I have been in constant motion, following Jack and Sherry, pack meetings and patrols, keeping an eye on the boys, the two here, etc.
And I know that Sarah is near.
Jack and Sherry argue more. They argue a lot about money. Neither sleeps through most nights. Angst about money has a distinct scent. I smell it on them, and on nearly every human I come near these days. They are all like the sparrows. They want to know what happened to their trees.
No comments:
Post a Comment