Morning reflections in cottage 63

warmish cloudy skies, rumply grey with golden tint, looking out small bedroom window at neighbours’ cabin, grey tile roof, birds nesting above eaves; birds very fat, sparrows. Repetitive cheep-cheeping adult birdsong, a tree growing in front of neighbouring cabin, young and strong, a magpie is in the middle of it now, black and white, the magpie has a red under-tail, the tree’s limbs all grow upwards, as in a kind of leaf-shaped bloom, pure spring energy, slim taupe-brown branches, waving gently in the breeze, each branch is tipped with lengths of fresh green roundish leaves, if it were a photo I could zoom in to see the exact type, but it is real, so I must be content with the limitations of reality; I find myself much more content, here staring at reality, even if mildly frustrated due to limitations

the magpie is back, the magpie is gone, the sparrow is back, cheeping repetitively in the naked hedge between our two cabins, he waits for a moment, he looks directly at my window, cheeping, he is only a few metres away, I saw him mating yesterday, he, the more flamboyant one, fluttered atop his smaller, cosier brown mate, she stayed on her branch, calmly, he fluttered atop her repetitively, again and again, as she calmly minded her branch, tail upwards and calmly accommodating

the cabins are creamy beige in colour, faux-wood siding, muted spring-green real-wood trim, lovely covered wooden decks, grey clay tile rippled roofs, shallow peaks, a bird’s paradise, spring-studded trees aglow like blooms against the dampish promising skies, some are bright red in the distance

but the birds have disappeared,  now the breeze is gone, the sky grows more pale and less warm, a bluish tint along the lower edge behind the tree, now the breeze is back, the speckled female has brought a twig, zig-zag flutters to the nest, tucks it in, furtively; the male meanwhile is staring at my window again, his pretty dove-grey breast with white cravat puffed outwards, his little black beak cheeping throatily in my direction

he doesn’t see me, but rather himself, in the too-bright reflection of the morning sky, on my window

* * *

It used to be that I would sometimes only record such observations as the date, the time, the ambient temperature, and the sights and sounds of the moment; and now here, in reflection, I believe that was my most important work

(besides breathing, nesting, copulating, mothering) (she adds on, in hindsight)

yesterday I took the children to see the monkey forest

we each got one handful of popcorn to feed the monkeys, who sat occasionally, freely along the paths

“do not feed mothers carrying infants” were the strict instructions

“but why” I asked

“because they could be aggressive” was the answer

but

the only baby monkey we saw was being mothered by two males, lovingly, affectionately, protectively

“why” I asked

“the mother is off somewhere” was the answer

now, upon reflection, I believe she

was perhaps getting popcorn from passerby, without her infant

or perhaps

recording her observations of the day

 

* * *

18 April 2019 07:19, Thursday, France
scriv, mb, mid, cottage #63, Corrèze, 11C, warmish cloudy skies…

8 thoughts on “Morning reflections in cottage 63

  1. The first part, an artist, eyes on vibrating antenna, observing for a painting
    The second part, a Japanese ink drawing, a first nations Trickster spirit,
    the beginnings of who we have become…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “or perhaps
    recording her observations of the day”

    What a lovely way to turn the reflection there at the end. It’s a very “Ah ha!” moment like you get when you read Busho, Buson, or Issa’s haiku. Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Aeryk what a lovely and incredibly kind comment, really, thank you so much, and you have inspired me here to no end with those names, I have something to feast on now!

      Like

    1. Oh, thanks a lot holodoc!! Means a lot to me. Feels a bit awkward sharing off-the-cuff journal entries sometimes (although you yourself are so good at this). Nice when people “get” it. xoxo

      Like

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