There is a tree, planted some ten years ago, just outside my office window, that has died. There is a gourd bird house hanging in the tree. The family of birds who has taken up residence seems to be getting ready to leave for the winter. I have wondered where they go... the adults, but today that is not what I am wondering about. I am thinking about taking the tree down when the last of the residents fly away. And, perhaps even, what new tree to plant.
There is plumbing in this house that was put in ... in this iteration, in 1950 or so. It has some interesting issues. At this moment it is flowing very nicely. The last clean out seems to be holding. It makes me wonder what it was like when there were eleven or twelve souls living in this house. What did the plumbing do then? Then I do the math. I don't think that there were that many living here at any one time. And, it was a long time ago. In fact, it makes me wonder about the conversion from out house to indoor plumbing and the timing. It is the thinking of the rash of birthday time.
Each day is another trip. On one day a year, the trip also is around the sun. A trip in a trip... and so sets off the rash of birthday.
There is a tree. And today it grows. Another has died and so its growing is become something new. It may burn up in the f
Eclectic - With a hint of pepper