Monday, Jan. 05, 2004 - 9:12 pm
Um... I'm sorry.
This relationship just isn't working for me.
I'm at www.dailypreciousness.org now. So change that bookmark.
I sit and watch the redbirds eat the scattered birdseed along the banks of the pond at Bountiful. Their rounded bellies indicate hearty health, despite the winter weather. Mom and Dad have performed their feeder filling duties well. That, and the cats, perhaps, have grown a little complacent.
The clock on the mantel ticks, barely audible above the purr of the cat in my lap. I smell the musty, wild scent of Scooter, resident tiger-sphinx, as he cozies up to me more snugly.
I am compelled to speak in a baby voice and ask him if he knows how precious he is. Scooter is the ultimate laptop: stylish, warm and reliable.
The lanky feline has sharp, practical claws. And he uses them; generally, he’s the one responsible for the festive sprinkling of red feathers along the path and the little doorstep offerings of fresh kills add a certain spice to Mom’s morning ritual. I smile as I picture her crazed reaction to his simple tokens of affection. (I bet she really gets animated when the critters are still alive and moving!) I chuckle at this and look out the window, past the porch swing.
A breeze blows an oak sapling’s adolescent bough. Coasting on the breeze like downy feathers, the shower of leaves drifts toward the pond, a shower of oranges and yellows. Hitting the water, they continue to catch the wind, floating over to the partially submerged Christmas tree.
“The tree helps the little fish out,” I remember Daddy explaining. “It adds to the safety of Bountiful minnows and baby Bountiful bass.” Dad said the little fish need a hiding place from the bigger ones. And since this is the season of getting rid of trash you don’t need, it was a donation of trash from my uncle. It’s just another piece of the puzzle of Bountiful ecology. You don’t have to be a Bountiful ecologist to understand it. It’s just part of the great Circle of Bountiful Life (patent pending).
