The coyotes are enjoying the low hanging fruit, and I wonder when they will decide they've run out.
I should dust the house. I write that out loud to acknowledge my own procrastination. The first step is acknowledging you have a problem. I should dust. All our new fangled air handling cleaning systems perform exemplary. Outside of not sweeping floors, completely eliminating dust, doing the laundry, dishes, and windows. The house full of air filtering and treating technical wizardry delivers all it promised. It's just that sweeping the floors, completely, permanently eliminating dust, doing the laundry, dishes, and windows would have been a nice surprise.
The half bath reconstruction is underway. The ceiling is drywalled and lit, the main blank wall that will be my canvas is drywalled. Above the doors and to the canvas wall is drywalled. We're well on our way. When I say we, I mean Cali. He's swimming comfortably in his element of home improvement minutia which I should stay away from as there are times I am close to convinced a butter knife can act as a screwdriver in a pinch. I am his apprentice accomplie. Hopefully making his work a bit easier and faster to get through. I think I am. He's too sweet to say otherwise, anyway.
The canvas wall already yanks on my musings chord. Colors argue amongst each other in my head. The wall will be a realistic Floridian coral reef filled with the native species of same. There will be a clown fish ensemble for Cali. He loves clown fish.
The lights in the ceiling are gimbaled recessed lights, that allow a choice of 2700K to 6500K giving warm to white cool. WHICH is a luscious addition for my art. How you wash a scene in light defines how the scene plays.
Jack and Jill Crow are creating their family nest at the top of the big pine tree near our house. Jack visits me in the morning and afternoon to gather food for them both. We talk a bit. He's a lot to say. Big hopes for his family. I told him I was looking forward to meeting his fledges. Jill works the nest. She's been a shy girl these three years we've known each other. She also has no patience for the blue jays. Rude, bossy, questionably sane.
Jack is tailed by one specific jay. Jack lands near. The jay lands a handful of feet away complaining to Jack. Hopping, ripping grass bits and throwing them in Jack's direction. Jay fits. Jack goes about his foraging with me, even as the jay takes flight and low passes over Jack's location, again complaining while in flight. I bring peanuts out to keep him busy. Jack appreciates my craftiness. He forages in peace. I'll need a serving cart. The yellow bowl needs to be seven yellow bowls for buffet needs.
I'm closing in on the finishing touches of my next book; High Ceilings - Musings of a Childhood and Why I Can't Grow Up. Christopher, our son, is my cover artist, again. I thoroughly enjoy working art with him. His talent sharpens mine. His humor firestarts mine. He's a good egg. A better friend. And a treasure. He is my greatest work.
You're wondering about that cormorant in the photo, yes? He was a tag along on one of our fishing trips a few years back. He waited patiently boat side for our cast offs that were too small. He ate well that day from Cali's hand.
Of course we were beneath him, and loath to gaze upon his superior personage.