My days usually start pretty early. My alarm goes off before the sun comes up and this morning I beat it by about thirty seconds, having awoken from a rather scary alien invasion dream. It started like most, with unusual weather, then grew into something highly detailed and colored with that awful feeling that there's nothing to do but hide, helplessly hoping.
I woke with that, and then the alarm to assure me they weren't here yet, but it was cold in the house. It was a three-cat sort of night. Bilbo Cat was in his usual spot, curled up against Orion's back. After extricating Orion from his bed, we jumped through the usual morning hurdles and I dropped him off at school, picked up Helen and headed to the post office before it was overtaken by seniors. On the way back here, we passed a field of ravens. I stopped to take a few shots with my phone, regretting not having a better camera with me. (A second camera is definitely on my wish list---have a Power Shot sitting around?) Will trade for poppets.
It's not far, so we drove home and I snagged my camera and we headed back. I told Helen on the way that this wouldn't be our last side trip. I explained that there was a good chance the birds would be gone when we returned, but that if I didn't try there was no chance.
I've learned that I have to be willing to take these opportunities when they arise. I have to be willing to stop, or change course, or inconvenience myself a little. Art doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's more like water from the ground. The pump has to be primed.By the time we returned, many of them were gone, but Budd was there. He approached me and we talked. I learned that he's eighty-seven years old and he likes ravens infinitely more than crows. I also learned that he feeds this flock every morning at sunrise and that they are particularly fond of dry cat food.
I'll be meeting him there sooner than later, with a bag of Friskies and my camera.
This was my morning. Now I'm off to work.