A Few Things I Forgot to Say

Dear Lily,

I had a long time alone in the car yesterday to think of all things I forgot to tell you before I drove away and left you to live in a dorm with strangers, 518 miles from home.

 - Wear your retainer as prescribed. I know what all of your teeth look like. If any of them move, you owe me $5000. I'm not kidding.

- Don't eat too much junk food. Go for a walk or watch puppy videos if you get stressed out. That whole you are what you eat thing is for real. Please make sure there is a green vegetable on your plate at dinner.

- Try new stuff. I'm going to do that too. I tried shrimp and grits yesterday. I don't think grits is in my DNA. We are Polenta people. I'm still glad I decided to try it.

- Go to the dances and parties and wear your new dress.  It's gorgeous on you. No one else knows anyone either. Just find one person you can talk to. If that one person is a boy, remember to get your own drink. I haven't been a teenager for a while but know that things haven't changed that much. A young man will go to exceptional measures to charm the pants off you. Be charmed. Have fun. Be safe.

- I have never seen an area so populated with deer! You're going to be dodging them left and right! Keep your eyes on the road. Stay in your car and call Dad or me if you ever break down. Maybe get that campus security guys number too. What was his name? I can't remember.

- Take a lot of photos. You have a talent for capturing moments. You'll want to remember all this one day.

- Don't look at your phone while you're eating.

- Do you have any idea how smart and funny and beautiful you are? I look back on photos of myself when I was your age and wish I knew then that I had it all going on. Maybe seeing that while you're in the thick of it is impossible and part of growing up. Trust me, you have it all going on.

- If you ever feel shaky in your shoes, too stressed, too much anxiety, go outside. Take your shoes off. Feel the grass under your feet. Shut your eyes. Take deep breaths. Listen to the birds. I truly believe a few minutes of this can cure almost anything.

- I'm sure I'll think of more things to tell you that you will inevitably roll your eyes at to will me to stop. Know that I can't help myself. I can't turn this off. I'm honestly not worried about the big picture stuff with you. I am confident that I raised an intelligent, ambitious, motivated woman. I'm just going to fuss a little. Be patient with me.

- Don't slouch. Look people straight in the eye and speak kindly and confidently.

This is my first Sunday morning in the house without you. It's way too quiet. I'm sad that I don't hear your familiar sounds. I've read and am fascinated by the significant transformation a person can go through in forty days. It's mystical. It's practical. It seems to be a reasonable amount of time to try to adjust to a new way of living.

So, for the next 40 days, I am going to write feverishly.

I am going to paint the bathroom.

I am going to get ready for you to come home for Thanksgiving.

I am going to look for my favorite hiking socks that you swore you didn't pack and walk the dog a lot.

In 46 days I am going to drive 518 miles to see your beautiful face.

I love you with every bit of my heart,

Momma

Goodbyes

I'm not good at goodbyes. I might even be the worst goodbyer ever.  A goodbye is too much. Too final. I can't bear to think that I'll never see you again. So, I'll give you a high five. Tell you I'll see you in a little bit even though i'm not sure what tomorrow might bring. And then I'll take off and cry like a baby at the thought of not seeing your face again. I'll rush to find a pen to document every detail about our time together so I never forget. Please don't ever forget me either. I already miss you and I'm still right here, watching the whole thing from the top of this tree.

Fifty

Today I am fifty years old. 50!!!!! Half of 100. I'm amused by how it sounds. It doesn't seem to fit me yet.
When I started the 100 day project I had no idea that it would be ending on my birthday. I never looked ahead. I just started with day 1 and showed up. Everyday. I never had a stock pile of birds and essays ready to go. Most days I would think of something while I was walking the dog or driving in the car. I noticed that I needed to be outdoors to be inspired. I liked that I called no re-dos or edits. I wouldn't have kept going if I tried to make this anything more than a quick sketch and a couple of words. It was definitely, without a doubt, the most vulnerable thing I have ever done. Who do I think I am to call myself and artist or a writer?
Hitting the publish button got easier as I got nice comments from people. I went from having a couple of people reading my blog to 200 a day. I got faster at sketching and started doodling birds with bikinis. I never once felt like the project was a chore. I love that I did this.
It's ending tomorrow and I am fifty years old. My daughter is leaving for college next month. These two things are right on the edge of freaking me out but i'm going to continue to show up everyday and figure out what this next part of my life is all about. It's exciting. And scary. But mostly exciting. For both of us. This kid is going to do great things. She's my most beautiful birdy.

The Chase

The thing I like most about your dog? If given the choice between a bird and a red squirrel, your dog always chooses to chase the red squirrel.

Damn fool. (the squirrel, not the dog)

Eggs

There is only a baby bird in an egg that has been fertilized. Sat on. Made warm. Loved a little. Incubated. So, why is it that you hold your breath when you crack an egg in anticipation of a baby chick falling out into your missing bowl?
In all your years of cracking eggs, has this ever happened? No? I didn't think so.

The Right Amount of Sparkle

These are my two post-party favorites: a leftover good morning stale hamburger bun to peck at and the ribbons hanging from the trees. Definitely leave them up. Seeing a flowing little pop of color in the morning from the nest thrills me. And, they're fun to dance with. Having ribbons flowing from your trees is not at all over the top. It's just the right amount of sparkle.

Helping Hand

That wind! Blew us right out of the nest. Toppled the whole thing over!

Seems like that was a fail on building a storm proof nest. My Mom should have borrowed some duct tape. I think my brother landed in the compost pile. Can you give him a hand back up too? I'm close to flying out of here by myself soon. I just need another day to be home and regroup. You're a lifesaver. Literally. 

Garden Parties

The best friends are the ones that let you invite yourself

over when you're feeling the most vulnerable

and hanging on by your fingernails.

They don't mind if you stay until the sun sets.

These are the til death parts us friends. 

These are the friends you learn a thing or two from.

Art's Garage

Flash
One one thousand, two one thousand
Boom
A storm is getting close

It's one of my first memories from Parrish Lane
Counting how far out a storm was with Pop-pop
We sat on nylon lawn chairs near the garage door

He called me his Little Swede
He called my Dad "Mo"
I don't know why
His name is Dave
"Hey Mo", grab me a beer

There was a peanut can full of change on the shelf above the vice grip
He would let me take a whole handful
I mostly got pennies

I dream about the garage a lot
I can sense that he is there somewhere in the dream
but I've never see him

Flash
One one thousand, two one thousand
Boom
I always think of him when a storm is coming
Flash
Boom
The storm is here

Happy Birthday Pop-pop

I See London

Perched up here with my birds eye view, i've watched you do a lot of things. This morning you realized your skirt was inside out when you got in the car. You just got out and changed things around in the driveway. This was something new. I saw your underpants.

Natural Flow

Once I am up high enough, even on the steamiest days when the air feels thick and unmovable, I can always catch a breeze to glide on. I find that natural flow and then it's cool, smooth sailing.
Or I could do what you do and turn the fan on full blast and sit directly in front of it with a cold cloth on my head.
Ones personal pleasure is such a finicky pursuit.

A Mother's Purse

You would not believe the things I can pull out of this purse.
What do you need? You chilly? I have a balled up cardigan and a scarf.
Headache? Got your covered with 3 medicinal options.
Bleeding? 4 different bandage sizes.
Need some extra light? I have 10 lightening bugs in a mason jar.
Hungry? Guess what I have? A banana.
I am Mary Poppins with wings.

Sleepless Hot Summer Nights

The brightness of the moon and the 1,000 lightening bugs lighting up this pine tree last night like a Pink Floyd laser show woke up the chorus of Cicadas. Who woke up my 4 baby birds. Who wanted a snack. Then another nighttime story. Then they were too hot. Then a fight broke out because someone was touching someone else's wing on purpose even though an invisible line was drawn down the nest which made that space the sacred no touch zone.
The crying. The flashing lights. The all night cicada singing. Me plus four baby birds in this tiny little nest. For the first time in my life, I was jealous of the Penguin whose only job for a bit is to stand there in the chilly Arctic breeze, balancing that one baby between their legs while waiting there for their mate to bring food.
This bird stuff is for the birds. Oh wait. I'm a bird. Shit.

Secret Pleasures

Beautiful things happen when it's 95 degrees outside and you choose to have nothing to do but lay on a lounge chair shaded by a big blue umbrella and eat a bowl of cherries while indulging in your secret guilty pleasure. Reading celebrity cookbooks. Don't worry, your secret dorky pleasure is safe with me. And Gwyneth Paltrow and Jessica Seinfeld.

Camouflage

Today I saw two camouflage pickup trucks drive down the road. If they were trying to disguise themselves as a tree, they failed. I saw them. Clear as day. Playing loud rap music also blows the whole blending into your surroundings thing which I thought was the whole purpose of camouflage. They would make terrible spies. I should let them borrow this twiggy leaf hat I made. You can barely see me, right? I'm blending right in.

Bananas

You buy bananas every week. They look healthy and adorable hanging from your banana tree fruit rack. You like frozen bananas in your smoothies. Banana bread. Banana and nut muffins. Little cut up banana pieces in your oatmeal. It delights you that it comes in a natural travel case. But to sit there and eat a banana and say "Wow, I love bananas!" It never happens. It's your fall back fruit. You're safe with the banana.
I do like picking at the pieces that get too squishy and end up in the compost pile but I don't want you to buy any this week. Buy some cherries. Stop playing it safe with the banana. Get wild.

Crazy as a Loon

A Strawberry Moon

in June

doesn't make me sing a different tune

I'm a tiny bit offended by "crazy as a loon"

I haven't been made mad by the power of the moon

I'm not digging through the garbage like a hoodlum raccoon

or staring at you like an ass scratching baboon

The one I love, my heart, that goon

He sings to me sweetly, my handsome common loon 

On the evening before the Strawberry Moon

Between Two Loons

Our calls have been called

Mournful

Haunting

Before the day ends

Longing for you

I cry out

Where are you?

You answer

I'm over here

Waiting to kiss you good night

My Family

When they fly away, 

I miss them.

Graduation Day

Thirteen years just went by really really fast. 

It’s all so cliche.

I blinked and this happened. 

Also, I might be a little hungover.

Did someone pour wine in the birdbath yesterday?

Party success.

Ten Minutes

Today, finding 10 minutes to crank out a bird

seemed absurd

With all there has been to do

it's finally quiet for a minute or two

Firing up the grill

Beer is on ice to chill

All the preparation is done

You're ready for some fun

Family is here

The Graduate, so beautiful, so dear

Dear God, a tiny request

from me and my guests

Make the rain stop

So party is not a flop

Cheers

What are those loud, witchy, cackling noises?

Is it coming from inside the house?

Oh geeze. 

You AND your sister are in there?

I hope the roof doesn't blow off. 

You should have passed out earplugs to your neighbors. 

Let the party weekend commence. 

Clink. Clink. Cheers to sister love.  

Summer Solstice

Did you hear?

It's the longest day of the year

Fireflies

Blueberry pies

Zucchini blossoms

Backyard Possums

The key

for me to stay awake until 9:30?

Sip tea

In this tree

Then it's pink pajamas

For this Mamma

Marshmallow Escalators

Standing here in the middle of your driveway, I'm outside of my comfort zone. I feel like I am prey to that nasty crow who always makes me feel like I did him wrong and he is waiting to catch me and scratch my eyes out. But I'm willing to feel uncomfortable so that I can be closer to you and amuse you by twitching my head from side to side. I know how that makes you giggle.
Remember the reoccurring nightmares you used to have when Lily was little? Like the one where you left her on top of the car in her car seat and drove down the highway? Or being separated in a department store with escalators that where made of marshmallows and you would sink into them and never be able to go fast enough to search for her? The horror of it all would jolt you awake only to find her warm little body next to yours. If she was lost, no one would every know that the only way she falls asleep is if she put her pointer finger in your mouth. Or that no amount of baby whispering tricks would get her to sleep in her own bed. The not knowing, I imagine that is every parents nightmare.
So, maybe step out of your comfort zone and scream a little bit about the horrible situation that is happening with migrant children. I know, screaming is not your thing. But do something. You laying there on the lounge chair staring at an empty bird feeder is doing no one any good. Especially me.
Those kids must be so scared to not be at home.
They must be so scared to not be with someone who loves them before they fall asleep.

Summer Magic

The most magical part of summer just happened...

I saw my first firefly.

Tree Living

One of the best things about living in this tree?

There is no television. I can tell by the look on your face that you watched the news and saw another scared child without her Mom.

You're humans. You can do better than this. 

#keepfamiliestogether

Dave

I've noticed your eyes are the same shape. The same color. He's 73. You're 49. Wow. You've known each other a long time.
He's a Master tool and die maker.
He likes car racing.
His dog.
The Erie Canal.
Fishing on the lake.
His kids.
Trains going by and things with loud motors make him happy.
For such a dude, he never seems to mind that he never had a son. He learned a lot about nail polish and girl drama. You learned how to double clutch a five speed when you could reach the pedals. Seems like a fair trade.
That is your Dad?
I can tell. You have the same smile.

Without A Care

I have flown

Alone

To destinations unknown

Once there

Without a care

I would just sit and stare

You should try this sometime

While you're still in your prime

You could sit in this chair and continue to rhyme

I Like Pie

please tell me why

it's so hard to fly

with a belly all full of strawberry pie

J.C.

Jesus Christ.
These are two more words that are frequently flying out of this beak. Like yesterday, when someone flew right in front of me and cut me off, I chirp screeched, "Jesus Christ, did you see that guy?" It's more like we are having an ongoing conversation rather than i'm constantly being disrespectful. You're one guy I really like. I'm pretty sure you never would have stolen my pink hat and played frisbee with it with one of your Apostles.
I don't know what heaven is like but if you ever get annoyed in the spirit world, it would be okay with me if you muttered Blue Bird under your breath. You probably don't get too annoyed though do you? Because, like, you're Jesus.
But if you need to, I'd be honored.
Peace out J.C.

A Swearer

God, since I have your ear about the jumping spider, I have another question. Do you get mad at me when I swear and use your name? For the record, I’m legitimately trying to quit swearing but it's not going so great.
That time when I flew into the window really hard and almost broke my beak off, I yelled God damn it after I regained consciousness and shook it off. I didn’t mean to dishonor you. With the upmost respect, I really truly did want you to damn that window.
You're not too mad?
I'm just a bird so my overall level of sinning feels pretty small.
Ok, ok, I'll try harder to stop swearing.

Jumping Spider

I'm not very picky about my insect snacks. I do however draw the line with that jumping spider. This is exactly why you're on your own with that giant one on the hose spigot. You, staring wide eyed, back and forth between me and the spider is in no way luring me to eat him so you can turn the hose off.
This is your big plan?
Someone has to eat the spider?
One of us has to make a move. I'm betting it's going to be you. I can sit here all night. You will eventually whine for your pajamas and need to turn the hose off before the basement floods.
Funny, where is that idiot Blue Jay when we need him? He'd probably eat it.
Why God?
Why does he need to have the ability to lunge himself at me from a mile away with those gigantic beady eyes?
Why the jumping spider?
I have so many questions.

Wise Friends

Oh sweet Blue Bird. Trust your wise old friend on this one. Jerks have been making messes and screeching since the beginning of time. They kind of have to get sprinkled into the mix. It helps the good ones to really sparkle. 

Oh. This bikini top? It was just hanging from a tree branch. I love me in pink. 

Later at the Bird Bath....

Did you see what he did?

The Blue Jay!

That loud mouth know it all show off.

He took my pink hat.

Him and that crow played frisbee with it. 

He splashed all around.

Made a mess. 

Ate my snack. 

Then flew away screeching like a madman. 

Wait.

Do you think he has a crush on me?

Is being a jerk a new mating ritual?

I'm hanging my suit out to dry. 

This is all too confusing and scary. 

Toast Crumbs

I do not accept bread to be the antichrist. So please, keep throwing your toast crumbs by the bird feeder. I've wiggled into this bikini and my squishy bits and I will be at the bird bath soaking up the sun and thanking God for putting wheat on the menu.
P.S. A little speck of blueberry jam would also be ok.

Light

When I hear creepy noises, I have to
remind myself not to be afraid in the dark.

For all my days on this earth so far,
the sun has never failed to show up. 

I can always find a little light. 

I'm one of the lucky ones. 

Under the Stars

I got the best ideas for figuring out my sticky

situations while laying here under the stars.

I didn’t need my therapist.

I just needed the day to end.

Dripping

the rain

is dripping on my head

drip 

drip

drip

it's making me sleepy

my eyes are closing

you're in the house

listening

it's peaceful, the dripping

we both feel the same way

grateful for a place 

to call home

when it's raining

More on Vulnerability...

In addition to showing up with no pants on, singing in public also makes me feel vulnerable. It's too bad. It crushes my rock star fantasy. I'm fine when it's just us in our own yard. Get me in front of a flock, i'll just about faint if you ask me to sing. Just put a bag over my head so I can't see anyone looking at me. Then i'll carry on like a canary. All this is baby stuff compared to being in love. Nothing feels more vulnerable than that.

Vulnerable

Thanks for the Carhartts.

I watched one episode of Naked and Afraid and feel so vulnerable.
Damn that man for bending over to build a camp fire. 

Parade Day

How sweet it is to sit in your front yard with the people you love the most in the whole world and watch a parade march by. The only thing I would change, if I could, would be throwing sunflower seeds instead of candy. I'm pretty much always thinking about my next snack.

Afternoon Snacks

Nom nom nom...

There is now one less cricket for you to chit chat with. 

Kooky

I know you have concerns about becoming a kooky not so young person that lives alone with a flock of freeloading stray animals. Just a little tip? Maybe you wouldn't look so kooky if you if you stopped puttering around the yard talking to your vegetable plants and random insects. Pretty sure your neighbors were watching you today. I don't know. It's just a suggestion.

The Backyard Beatle

Yes, birds can meditate. Where do you think The Beatles and Maharishi got their inspiration from? That's right. A bird. I'm like the George Harrison of you backyard. Maybe I'm not as sexy as him but I definitely got a little bit of a hipster swagger going on. I could totally rock a man bun if I wanted to. #imatrendsetter

A Warm Rump

I flew in quietly and perched on a horse. I don't think he knew I was there. Earlier in the day, I witnessed a quite a ghastly scene when the crinkling of a plastic bag terrified him. I can't imagine he would be calm, cool and collected knowing he had a hitchhiker on his rump. This spot on his butt is warm from the sun. It's my favorite place to sit still and think.

Sit Still

Sit still more often and listen to us sing. 

Just sit there. 

Close your eyes. 

Be still.

Turn that phone off. 

All that noise in your head, 

the cars passing, 

dogs barking, 

kids laughing, 

when that all becomes the background

you can really hear us sing.

We have so many different songs.

From time to time, you forget to listen. 

On Sunday

Going to church will be optional

on Sundays when I'm farming.

Being out in a field, behind the wheel

of my red Massey Ferguson

planting vegetables

is as close to God as

I'm ever going to get. 

Naked Farming

Once in a while I see this farmer out driving his tractor with no shirt on. I can only see him from the waist up and I can't help but wonder if he has pants on. Is naked farming a thing?
When I'm a farmer, I am always going to wear a shirt. And pants. At the same time.

My Next Life

If we get to pick our next lives, I want to be a farmer.

I want to plow fields in a red tractor.

I'm going to listen to Johnny Cash, drink a cold can of PBR and watch

the sun set as I leave tidy rows of overturned earth behind me.

In my next life, I'm getting out of the Barn Swallow business.

I'm going to be a farmer. 

Blinders

Sometimes, when he is telling you a story about his past, he closes his eyes. Is he watching the replay on the screen in his minds eye? Is he concentrating really hard to remember the details? Or, is he trying to avoid looking at the salad dressing that dribbled down your shirt?