Coming Back To LJ & Finding Baby Bleu-Jays in the Garden
I have been gone a long time, as if in a space walkabout, I am walking the world with a too big of a blue suitcase and backpack one can't even see in this photograph. When this photo was taken, the first nine inches of my head are what I call, old silverware. Now the silver is intermingled with the auburn, the color of old blood, all the way to the bottom and I have just cut off nine inches in order to assume a cleaner reception with the planetary radio. Like Ruth of Moab, I am the ultimate time traveler. I have been into a country I have never heard of, except as a stranger in a strange land. Along the way I have picked up such things as the music of Mary Margaret O'Hara, who put out one LP. i think in the early Eighties and then, disappeared. When someone is that strong & that powerful and tender, how can she do this to wimmin\just disappear? I highly reccommend her to everyone. This woman is amazing.
Also picked up baby bleu-jay twice, could tell it was a fledging almost flying, soft in the inside of my silk slip from the Goodwill and yes, I felt I was extending Goodwill to a lost confused: species, Bird, genus, Bleu-jay, Sex:unknown, because bleu-jays all look the same. Age: Just after eight weeks and ready to GO daddy GO.
He was a beauty with his stubby little tail, the last always to grow. The Clown. The trickster and jokester and always falling off the branch he tried to sit on with dignity, he was a little joke my bleu-bird and yet so serious. Who's listening to the neighborhood birds for instructions, directions, maps in the form of Song as Bruce Chatwin would say and like their own private satellites, needing this voice, these octaves as longtitude and langtitude as to where the hell am I and where am I going and I'm lost says the Little Bird. And that's what LJ is for: an Electronic Map for new birds to learn flight patterns. And electronic diaries...