Monday Minutiae

 

A busy week lies ahead, some of it, hopefully in Ireland with the rest of our Love family. 

Earlier today, I heard from a former student who, along with her family, just landed in Dublin this morning. 

"The airport is a zoo," she wrote. 

Meanwhile, over in Amsterdam, Annie arrived at the airport five hours early for her flight to Dublin.

After seeing seemingly endless lines in security, she noted that she was glad to have arrived that early.

As an update, she did make it through security so off to Dublin she goes.  

We're hoping that by the time we fly, which is not on a weekend, the crowds and craziness will die down. 

In the meantime, we're tending to last-minute items.  The list of "yet-to-do's" could run competition with those airport lines.  

The great aspect of going away for a while is that more stuff gets done around the place in preparation for leaving than ever happens when we're here all the time. 

Seems that going away is a good motivator for both self and home improvement. 

Which reminds me that I have a hair appointment today AND with that and the long list of to do's, I'll sign off.

Happy Monday.   

 

It's been a very good and busy year for crows here at the Lovestead.

Over the years, I've had the opportunity to observe and learn more about their habits. 

We have crows which station themselves in the same places every day, and, I believe, maybe every year. 

I've noticed a lone crow which hangs out west of the barn.  It's there every morning when I take horses to pasture, and unlike most of the other crows, it doesn't talk much during these sightings. 

Instead, the bird hops around and keeps busy pecking at the ground for angle worms.

Another resides west of the garden and perches in precisely the same spot on the board fence every single day. 

A family of crows apparently has taken up residence  in the Scotch pine tree in our front yard.  That's where I leave Bridie, hitched to a long rope in the morning while walking over to the road to get the paper. 

As soon as we start approaching the tree, the cackling begins, and by the time we're there, every single crow has left the tree.  I believe the family consists of half a dozen or so birds. 

Seems like we've had more crows than usual this year, and I learned a long time ago never to interfere with their activities. 

Once I found a baby crow in our barnyard on Great Northern Road.  Worried that the horses might stomp it, I picked it up and moved it to the other side of the fence. 

For three weeks afterward, I incurred the wrath of one of its parents, which waited until I'd come out the door to the house so it could fly circles over my head and verbally reprimand me like only a crow could do. 

Eventually the harassment stopped, but I learned my lesson to leave crows alone.  

So, we all harmoniously co-exist here with all sorts of crow cacophony.