Slight Detour: Visitors

When visitors come these days, we take note.

And, when they're two-legged, winged and beautiful, we make an extra effort to document their time spent here.

About 15 minutes after I had filled the bird feeders yesterday, a flock of Grosbeaks showed up in the yard from out of nowhere.

Somebody must have spread the word that there were sunflower seeds at the Lovestead.

The birds swooped in and helped themselves, creating a little havoc for the chickadees, juncos and other little birds who have spent the winter here surviving on sunflower seeds and such.

Like the Cedar Waxwing visitors of a few weeks ago, I think Grosbeaks pretty much adhere to Benjamin Franklin's reminder that fish and visitors (even winged types) smell in three days.

I expect to see them again today. Then, they'll probably be on their way.

Bill and I have both been enjoying but not seeing another visitor which made its presence in the area known about ten days ago.

One morning, I was still throwing out flakes of hay in the darkness of the front pasture when I heard a sequence of "WHO-WHO-WHO's" from over Meserve way.

Soon, I started answering back, and by the time I was pushing the cart back to the barn, the owl and I had a WHO-WHO conversation going.

Well, it seemed that way anyway!

Pretty much every other day since, either Bill or I have heard the creature sounding off during our early morning outings. Some mornings the owl is talking over in Gary Finney's woods, but yesterday it was back on the Meserve Preserve.

So nice to have its presence. I just wish we could meet it in person one of these days.

A lady in the neighborhood posted yesterday on Facebook that she had seen a wolf in the morning hours over near the railroad tracks.

Others, including me this morning, are hearing choruses of coyotes yipping.

So, it's apparent that the dead of January has hit its peak and certain aspects are awakening during the dawn.

Bill and I were talking about visitors yesterday and agreeing that we've gradually gotten in the habit of accepting a very quiet house over the last ten months.

I can remember only two times since the Pandemic took over our lives of having outsiders inside for anything other than repairs or appliance deliveries.

The last time, we as a family gathered together, with some of us sitting inside the house, was in early September for the Kentucky Derby.

Barbara, Laurie, Bill and I sat inside with living-room windows wide open while Willie, Debbie and Anne sat on the deck where they could watch the Derby through the open windows. We all wore masks too.

Before that, we as a Love family met in the living room sometime in early March to decide what we were going to do about our planned family trip to Ireland. We postponed the trip, like so many others.

Even at that time, the Pandemic had started, but as far as we knew, it was still far off from little ol' Sandpoint.

What a difference ten-plus months can make in our lives! In our county, the case numbers are moving toward 3,000 and 25 deaths have been attributed to the virus.

Bill and I figure that if we get our second vaccinations as scheduled, we should be able to loosen up a bit by the end of February, still wearing masks and keeping our distance but maybe having others who've been vaccinated join us inside.

We also agree that it's been rather nice never having to worry about how sloppy the house might look, should someone suddenly show up for a visit.

That's not to say that I don't keep it pretty much as tidied up as I ever do. Disclaimer: there are several levels of tidy, which means tidy is in the eye of the beholder.

It's just that one level of day-to-day stress about keeping a clean house has been replaced by a whole bunch of intangibles, due to Covid.

It is interesting to note this morning that some of the medical and scientific experts are suggesting that our nation could have finally reached its peak in cases and deaths from Covid.

When I hear that news, I think of a day in New Zealand as I lay on the ground on a mountain peak with 40 mph winds blowing sand all over the place.

The peak doesn't exactly mean the end.

It had been a long, long hard trudge up that Tongariro Passage for a then 55-year-old on a really rotten day for taking what is touted as the North Island's most beautiful hike.

As I lay there with sand blowing in my face, I couldn't imagine getting up and taking another step. There was no choice, though----we still had to get down that mountain.

Much of the trip down wasn't any easier than the climb up---lots of varying terrain and and many steps seemingly designed to kill already screaming knees.

With Annie's constant encouragement, though, I finally made it to the pickup point where a bus would take us back to Taupo.

My body didn't feel so good, but my mind was alive with excitement and supreme satisfaction at accomplishing one of the most difficult outdoor challenges of my life.

Back to the Pandemic.

We may be peaking at this point, but we still have lots of hard ground yet to cover. Encouragement, continued self discipline, adhering to guidelines and caring about others will get us there.

When we reach that time, it will feel SO good in so many imaginable and unimaginable ways.

Plus, if I have to put out a little extra effort to clean my house cuz company's coming, that will be okay.

For now, we'll just keep enjoying the outdoor visitors.

Happy Monday.