Thursday, April 7, 2022

Stalked

A bald eagle stalked us on our morning walk today. I should say that the eagle stalked Priscilla and Jackson. I'm sure the eagle detected that I was a load too heavy to maneuver. I first noticed the eagle as he rode the currents above the lake. What a magnificent wonder it was as it tilted this way and that in the air, catching the changing currents of the slightly breezy day.
 
Suddenly, the eagle swooped down in our direction, arresting its dive just above us, clearly studying us. It rested on a small updraft, balancing itself in slight adjustments of its wings and body, staring at us. At only 11 pounds, Priscilla probably looked like a perfectly delicious breakfast. Or maybe Jackson, at 16 pounds looked the better selection. More meat. But eventually the eagle decided against an attempt and flew off across the narrow part of the lake. I watched as it soared back and forth, surveying the ground around the edge of the lake. Finally, I lost interest and continued our walk around the lake, intent on stopping at the cove where baby turtles had recently been born. Last year, only one survived, but I still see it almost every time I scan the water there. It's not big enough to swim out into the lake. There are bass and huge carp in the deeper water, not to mention really big turtles, and don't forget the alligators!
 
But only about 2 minutes later, as we approached the turtle territory, I saw the shadow of a large bird appear across our path just ahead of us. I glanced up and the eagle was back, just behind us and above our heads, measuring (I think) the difficulty level of a Priscilla or Jackson purloin. Again, I gazed up at the beautiful creature with its signature white head. I was mesmerized, even while I was pondering a potential fight with an eagle, because over my dead body would it be taking my babies. Can eagles sense a protector's determination? Maybe. It eventually flew off again and didn't return.

 

Sunday, March 13, 2022

Cinnamon Rolls

So I'm standing at the stove and I'm carefully and artfully spreading white icing on cinnamon rolls to take to my just-moved-in-today upstairs neighbors. Suddenly I hear a sound that startles me because it sounds like it's coming from INSIDE my apartment. It's a metal-on-metal tinkle sound.

I stop, activate my innate, serial-killer-tracking-superpower, and listen HARD for about 30 seconds. Nothing. I go back to my icing and hear it again!!! I stop, alarmed now, and decide to just stroll through my apartment to see if I can hear it. Master, master bath, master closet, Living room, dining room, hall, guest room (Y'ALL COME!), guest bathroom, coat closet, and finally the patio. Nothing but birds and a neighbor's dog barking his usual "WHERE ARE YOU" bark that signals that his parent is not at home.

Satisfied that chopping, hacking, and bloodletting are not about to commence, I return to my cinnamon rolls. Immediately, the faint tinkling begins again. WHAT IS THAT!?!?! Then, I see it. I'm wearing a silk, floor-length caftan that has a laced up section at the upper chest. The ends of the laces have decorative beading, the metal of which is gently hitting the handle of the oven door as I apply icing to the rolls. Cue my eye roll to go with the cinnamon roll.

My imagination is prolific in its ability to transform the ordinary into the worst possible horror. I'd like to blame it on Stephen King, but I was like this long before I read The Shining - and everything that came after.

I ate a cinnamon roll before I took the rest upstairs. I felt this was fair compensation for the 3 months I probably lost off the end of my life. (This really won't age well if I'm visited by an axe murderer tonight.)

May be an image of sweet roll and cinnamon roll