Friday, March 28, 2008
So yesterday, I got up (sort of) and there out the window was a doe eating a)molecules, because that's what seemed to be on offer on the muddy, newly-deprived-of-glacier soil at the edge of the woods. There is still PLENTY of glacier. In town, the glaciers are quite dirty and will probably melt faster as a result of losing their natural coloration. Not here in the thinterlands.
The doe, who was not one of your small deer, appearing to be the size of a small SUV like a RAV or that one two of my friends have (but I am apparently not having a good morning for brain cells) or a post-modern refrigerator, did not greatly care that I was looking at her, even though she or her ilk (or elk?) were likely responsible for making my poor little pitchpine into a troffula tree.
I feel sorry for the deer, they are hungry. I do not feed them because they need to eat twigs and bark this time of year, not hay or chicken food, and because they should not associate this place with food in case I ever terraform it and garden.
They don't look starving (assuming I would recognize it), they look truculent.
She left and the tom turkey came and did the whole 'gobblegobblegobble' fluff display, which is pretty cool.[By the way, the soundtrack here is stupid. The sounds on this one are much more like it. The thing to notice, by the way, is that generally, the hens could care less only with great difficulty.] I am not a turkey hen nor that way inclined, but the American peacock thing is simply fine.
And it was sunny and you would have thought it might, possibly, be spring.
This weekend is the Smith science fiction convention and I am teaching spinning and needlefelting, traditional science fiction and fantasy crafts. So I worked an extra 3 hours and got the thing for Friday done yesterday afternoon, I could pack today and leave perhaps around noon. Leisurely travel, little streams, melting glaciers. WEBS. You know.
Only it's snowing really a lot and will get worse until tapering off about 4pm. When I will leave.
I think perhaps the Jews were right this year and we might have just put in an extra February and lowered our expectations.
The Spellman Files is really funny.