How in the dickens did it get to be Thursday. And me with no more accomplished than if it were last Thursday. Crock. I have just been reading an article on procrastination in a magazine called Scientific American Mind. (I should have been doing laundry, but there I was in my reading chair enjoying the sun on my lap and face and reading about not getting on with things.) It tells the reader that one of the best techniques to cure putting off doing something is to break the whole task up into manageable portions. Hmm. I guess I will go out and fill the bird feeders and put out deer food. Then I can come back and put some work in.
We have a flock of ten wild turkeys hanging about the place these days. Little Stuff thought at first that they were moving rocks when she spotted them at sunrise. She was also highly unimpressed with the turkey droppings all around the feeding station and picked her way through the goo with her little face screwed up into a most unladylike expression. They are scratching up the soggy grass newly emerging from the snow in the maintained field and JG is now thinking we should chase them away. It's an all female flock at present and I am hoping that they will stay long enough for a Tom to catch up with them and display. That's quite a sight.
We also have a big, big flock of mixed redpolls and American goldfinch who are eating huge amounts of Niger seed the last while; they are emptying the big feeder every day. When they are full they hang about and twitter among themselves (non electronically), sounding very cheerful. JG is not cheerful; the price of good Niger seed is way up and he thinks they are being piggy.
I don't know whether I am happy or depressed at this stage of spring. The air is warming up and the snow is melting. A winter's worth of crud is appearing and the footing is terrible. The red wing blackbirds and robins are back; huddled around fluffing up their feathers and looking cranky. The days are longer. The house is cold because we've switched from the wood furnace to the wood stoves and if the day is cold and the wind is blowing, as it is today, the only really warm places in it are near the stove and where the sun is shining in. So I am just like the robins, wearing two sweaters and feeling cold.
I'm just grumpy today. I don't want to be here waiting for slow poke Eastern Ontario spring. I want robins and cardinals singing, little green shoots poking inquisitive noses out of the ground, warm winds blowing. Somewhere south of me these things are happening. I want to open the windows and smell fresh grass and lilac and I don't want to vacuum a pile of muddy gravel out of the front entrance again. I want to be somewhere else, someplace where I am handed a menu and find my bed made with fresh sheets and look out the window at a beautiful view.
Bored and cranky and cold and fed up. Oh well. Tomorrow, as someone famously remarked, is another day.