The magic cup of coffee

It's been a busy day. After breakfast and a stop at the Post Office, Barb and I headed in different directions - she to run errands and walk; me to the RFB&D studio. We met up again mid-afternoon - she prepped  for class and I trimmed some limbs to a size suitable to put out for the trash man. Separate cars to Chuy's and she's off to class while I go by the library and check in/out books.

I'm home alone now, and it's time to brew a magic cup of coffee and go sit out on the patio to watch the evening gather. It's chilly and overcast tonight and darkness will come quickly. This afternoon while on the treadmill, I counted a dozen Finches swarming the feeder, eating furiously as if they couldn't keep the fires stoked in their tiny high-octane engines; now they are done feeding, the metabolism has been dialed back, and they are making nesting noises. They are a rowdy bunch and create quite a cacophony; one in particular is really ticked off about something. She sounds like an angry pressure cooker, clattering away. Gradually they settle down and here and there pairs of Finches will volley a single short note back and forth, as if they are reassuring each other that the kids are home and all is well. If I am very still, the occasional bird will come to the water dish at my feet for a bed-time sip of water.

I recognize the liquid call of the Redbirds. They are flying back and forth between this yard and the next, as if they are trying to decide which tree to settle in. There's only one Blue-jay in sight; it calls anxiously, noisily, for it's mate - late getting home from the office. A couple of Mourning Doves coo quietly as they gather up the last of the manna that has fallen from the feeders on high.

Finally, the only sounds are the muffled wheels of cars, hurrying past over on Cameron. The magic cup of coffee is empty.  I gather my cup and my blessing and go inside for the night.