A
frigid winter wind is leisurely sweeping through the forest trees. The
deep night is sightless and silent, interrupted by the occasional hoots
of restless owls. There were two inches of snow yesterday, which is more than enough winter joy to sustain me.
I'm much more restless than the owls, my mind racing like a runaway ghost train that spans years and decades rather than miles. The long winter midnight hours encourage rampant thoughts and penetrating memories
It's long
after midnight now as I'm writing this and the temperature is dropping.
The leisurely wind is turning icy. I hate cold weather - especially in a
frigid house with a faulty furnace. But I hate hot weather, too.
My favorite seasons are autumn and spring - the transitional seasons.
Random disjointed thoughts.....
The mysterious question that I wrote on my previous blog post (in case anybody was wondering) was directed solely to someone who dislikes me but won't let go. One big drawback of having a public blog.
There's a specific purpose for everything I write, although it doesn't always clearly manifest itself to others.
I often sarcastically like to rub salt into wounds.
My father was a master at doing this. His words cut like a knife and were intended to kill.
My intention is merely to inflict superficial wounds.
I've probably inadvertently offended more people than any other blogger.
Some people take offense at my (very) occasional rough language.
Oh, come on - my blog posts could be read in your grandchildren's Sunday school class.
I've offended gays by saying transgenders shouldn't be in the military.
Then I retracted my statement by agreeing that transgenders should be in the military. They should be placed in the front lines...That appeased a few idiots.
I infuriated several readers who think I don't take the pandemic seriously.
Twenty years from now they're going to wake up in their basements with plague masks plastered to their faces and finally realize they've been bamboozled, hoodwinked, and screwed.
Liberals go completely insane whenever I write a political blog post.
That's exactly why I do it.
I deleted a post that I wrote last night (Midnight Confession) because I thought it might offend the church ladies who read my blog. I didn't think they wanted to hear about an erotic encounter with a priest on the altar of a church...
Relax. It happened long ago. Nowadays I'm pure and innocent as the wind-driven snow. Almost. If you want to put some sizzle in your Geritol, just wait until you read my memoirs.....
One more thing before I go :
I always like to respond to your comments, and I like to leave comments on other blogs. However I sometimes don't, because I'm using a Keyboard from Hell.
The keyboard on my laptop no longer works, so I have to use another one plugged into a USB. This USB keyboard is so bad that it sometimes takes hours to write one blog post.
It skips letters when I type, disconnects automatically from the computer when I least expect it, and often erases complete sentences as I'm writing. It's the only contraption on earth that makes me scream and reduces me to tears.
Never buy a keyboard at Walmart.
One more thing (again)
On my previous blog post I wrote about a red-tailed hawk. In the comments Susie (from Persimmon Moon Cottage) wrote an interesting incident about her father rescuing a red-tailed hawk. I thought it's worth re-posting for those who didn't see it.
Many
smaller animals eat pumpkin, especially after it is broken apart so
they can easily get to the mildly sweet insides of it. There may have
been mice, chipmunks, or a squirrel at the pumpkin that the hawk was
stalking before you looked out the window.
When
I was about 13 years old my Dad came in the door with something wrapped
in his jacket. It was a big red tailed hawk that had hit the windshield
of the car in front of my Dad's car on a country road. The hawk was
laying at the side of the road moving just a little. My Dad pulled over
and put his jacket over the hawk and wrapped it and put it in the back
seat for the trip home. We had Big Boy the hawk for about 2 weeks.
Within two days of having him, my Dad made falconry equipment for him.
He had a big steel round jingle bell on his ankle on a leather strip
briefly. He was able to bend the jingle bell metal and open it and take
the metal ball out of the middle of it, so it no longer jingled. Big
Boy was very tame within two days. He ate raw meat. He would sit on my
Dad's or my arm near the wrist (It was winter we wore coats and gloves).
My Dad could hold him up, but Big Boy was so heavy that I couldn't hold
him up, and as my wrist dropped lower he climbed up my arm more until
he was wanting to sit on my shoulder. His beak was amazingly strong, and
his talons were huge. I didn't let him sit on my shoulder, I didn't
know him well enough to trust him with my eye or ear, but he never did
bite me or Dad. When he fully regained his strength we drove him back
to the country road where Dad found him and set him free. We were all
sad to let him go, I was crying. He flew up to the top of a telephone
pole and sat there watching us as we drove away. Dad went up the road a
ways and went back the way we came and there was Big Boy still up on the
pole looking down at us as we drove by him again. Hawks are so smart,
and to touch one and look into its eyes and interact with it was
unforgettable. I think that a squirrel or rabbit is about as much as a
big hawk could fly a distance with, but if they tried to pick up a cat
or small dog their talons would wound them. We have red tailed hawks
around here occasionally, and I wouldn't let my 8 lb Pomeranian out if I
saw one anywhere around. I wouldn't risk those talons piercing into
Fuzzy
