I had on a rust-colored blouse I don’t often wear–it’s a little old now–and a dark brown skirt, thinking I looked a bit autumny for the day of summer solstice, but hey.
No, really. June 21 is summer solstice mostly, but here on the western end of the western time zone I’m told it officially happened today. San Diego’s sun actually set 45 minutes earlier than ours did when we were there–it’s that much farther east. I’m not quite sure how all that means we get solstice a day early, but whatever.
So.
I was finally knitting for the first time since Monday’s rough tumble, finding it comfortable to do now and a relief that it was, when I felt eyes upon me.
I looked up.
There was a little Oregon junco, a fledgling, just a baby, really, watching me as stitches grew from my hands: nesting season isn’t over for you?
It dawned on me that I was wearing much of the coloring of the little one’s parents. I was charmed. I blinked; it blinked back. I watched a little while and tried again. It turned its head slightly to get a better view, and again blinked back.
And so we enjoyed each other’s company eye to eye a minute or two. I have done this before with the bigger birds out there, but the flighty little ones? This was a new thing.
Then it roused itself, went back to eating, and flew, done. And I finally got past the very beginning of the shawl I had promised myself I would make my suddenly-widowed middle-aged friend.
It feels so good to get on with it.
Love your dear ones.