Latest Birdie Basket

When it's cold outside the sweet little birdies are hunting all over for bits to keep them going. I like to see them close-up, so I put up my wire birdie baskets, full of black oil sunflower seed, to keep them happy. This birdie basket took all day to make. But it is a very meditative process to make a basket. In my father's opinion the lowest occupation on the totem pole was the basket-maker, and there were threats that if we didn't do well in school we would turn into a basket-maker. I however think it is a beautiful avocation to sink hours into, and wouldn't he laugh to see me now enjoying it so much.

Yesterday there was a line-up on the tree branches while each birdie took their turn in the basket. Spotted towhees, house finches, Oregon juncos, chickadees, nuthatches and sparrows take to the queue. Some days the nasties come by: pine siskins. They are meanies. They fight with each other and scare the other birds away. But none clear the basket faster than the stellars jays. With their size and squawk all others scramble to get out of their way.

Today marked a new level I will go to to try and rid myself of pain: acupuncture. Only one of the needles hurt (in my neck) going in. I was surprised that the one right into my forehead didn't hurt. Towards the end of the season the bottom of my feet felt all tingly like they were electrified. Maybe it was the chi flowing through my body at last. It seems that acupuncture allows your body's energy flow to be restored. When I lived in San Francisco I always wanted to join in on the early morning tai chi that was practiced by the dozens in many city parks each day. But off to work I would go watching the rhythmic flow of synchronized bodies from my seat on the Muni bus. After my kids were born I did enroll in a tai chi class for a year and felt great after each session. I should have kept with it. But there was something fundamentally genuine about those groups in the park, back in San Francisco, through the fog or drizzle, no matter what, those older people, wrapped in black Mandarin jackets, would get themselves out and together each and every day, as opposed to a second story community center room under florescent lighting in Oregon.