Red-Tailed Hawk

A Fierce Practice 1 14 17

Location: Oval-shaped dining table at the nest
One Notable Thing: Three crows bullying the red-tailed hawk, yelling at him when he entered the neighborhood, and landing within wing distance of him on the bare tree, squawking continuously, until he took flight again, and they chased him like noisy fighter planes until all were out of sight and sound. Also, a dead raccoon in the far pasture, beyond the fence, but near the road with a tail so bushy and bright. And knowing that any raccoon out in daylight is likely rabid and crazy, I threw a corncob at him from the road to see if he was actually dead, or just being mischievous. He was dead. He is likely still dead. Apparently there is someone nearby who will pay you to come on your land and trap raccoons, but only in the winter because their pelts are all lush and useful now. I do not have his number, otherwise I would call this man to come haul away the raccoon. Otherwise, where does one put a rather large sized raccoon in the middle of the winter when the ground is too frozen to dig? I shall wait until he is picked apart, in hopes for the large turkey vultures - or even the neighborhood bald eagle - to come feast on his brown and black remains. And still, my fearless leader Jackson Cat ventured with me on the farm today, emerging from under the lonely farm truck when I rolled down the icy drive. He is fat with a shiny-black winter coat, which comforts me that all is well in the cat world, considering the number of negative digit days on the thermometer. I carried him, petting his head ferociously, as we walked eastward, and at some point he started that low, guttural growl-hiss that only a cat can make with cat organ-parts that only cats can understand. I thought I saw the neighbor's gray cat to the east, fleetingly, but maybe Jackson was seeing that dead raccoon much sooner than me. Also, sunshine. Notable because...Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun has been notably absent for a long string of days now. Also, Joe came today and hauled off the remaining sixteen round bales from the farm and to their new home, to feed some picky horses (or, more likely the horses of a picky horse owner). Windrowed (not really the appropriate technical use of the word) along the west farm fence, they've say there since around August, wrapped in their green-blue plastic mesh watching the sun rise over the then-leaved-now-bare trees and set earlier and earlier and now later and later over the small hill just barely to their west. Rain. Freeze. Snow. Freeze. Thaw. Rain. Thaw. Freeze. The plastic mesh covers and outer layer of hay frozen stiff on this just-below-freezing day. Just enough to glue mesh and hay in place to the ground, remaining on the farm and not leaving with the bales. When I arrived for my walk and mail collection today I found sixteen small mesh swatches, like little fishing nets, frozen to the ground under the weight where the bales sat for months, and tapering off toward the east, as if running with a fast flowing current, in the direction each was pulled with the skid steer, out of the windrow, through the field gate, the near pasture, the middle pasture, past the site of future house and out the driveway-to-come. 

Possibly the universe was generous after I was honest about not noticing yesterday.

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House projects today...

  • Itemizing and sizing things we already own that will go into future house (swinging door, chalkboard slate floor, bathroom medicine cabinet, small porcelain sink). Sending images of fixtures and items that are generally in line with what we hope appropriate sizes and spacing can be made to accommodate them in the plans. 
  • As it turns out, it is a different mental activity for people to design smaller. I think I have said this before, but maybe it's time to suss out those thoughts again. Yes, there is uniform building code. That is a thing. I get it. Standardized safety is good. I can get behind this (most of the time) I mean, I guess handrails and having stairs that are at least three feet wide is a good idea. But then there is also this rule of thumb. Toilet goes next to shower/bath. (Why? For some reason I think that's gross.) But, also 9 feet between kitchen counters and whatever wall runs parallels them. But...this is not code. This is just a rule. AND I WANT TO BREAK ALL THESE RULES. And I think I have found the right co-conspirator who can help me bend these rules of thumb, to think outside the box - while also thinking practically. (Yea, it's probably good to have enough space to walk around the bed). I'm playing with the idea of abundance here. (But also in other areas of life like noticing I am already thinking about the next bite of cake, or even ordering another slice of cake, while there is currently actual cake in my mouth. But I digress...) Abundance is key here. (And there will always be sufficient storage space in the basement.) Probably more to come on this.

What is..

  • Now's your chanceAn opportunity to decode the Voynich Manuscript. It's beautiful, and you should look at it. (Yale Alumni Magazine)
  • Postcards from Cricket. A friend created a lovely narrative for her adorable Golden Retriever, Cricket. Please at least watch the most recent video, if not fall in love with the whole thing.
  • The cry-fest ending to the bromance (PBS) and the original source of today's quote (CBS Note to Self).
  • Be forewarned. This.
  • Abecedary. Still thinking of this to guide a February-long project, inspired by the word abecedary as it appeared on a print on the wall of dear friends in Portland. Extra inspired when the "One letter a Day Project" flew out of the Flow Magazine sent to me as a gift from friendly D. The universe is sending signs my friend. I mean, with a day of introduction and if you include the ampersand there are just the perfect number of days in February to tackle the entire alphabet. Have any inspirations or ideas to guide this potential project? Let me know. (I am thinking that it will include a dictionary and snail-mail and post-it notes and a typewriter (obviously). 

Apply lotion. Repeat.
Under-moisturized Hugs,

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