The parrots rushed up out of the schoolyard tree and I tried to capture them—the vivid emerald wings against the blue, such a sight!—but my camera couldn’t manage their color and their speed, not at the same time.
I love the story, quite probably true, that these birds are descendants of some long-ago escapees. You run into them all over town; you’ll be riding along with your windows down and realize, suddenly, that you’re shouting to be heard above the din, and one of the children will cry out, “Oh, the parrots!” and everyone cranes necks to find the raucous green sky-ballet troupe. This time of year, they seem to favor our neighborhood, especially the giant Moreton bay fig tree just the other side of our backyard fence. They annoy our crows, who nest there. The crows flap up in a huff and scowl down from the power lines. The parrots just laugh.
My work is consuming everything else just now, and I’m aching for a return to our usual routine. Soon, soon. But the very best things we do seem to be pegged firmly in place after all these years, even when we’re beset with upheavals of one kind or another—chief among the ‘best things’ being good books, long walks, and time spent watching plants grow. Our German studies are pretty well pegged to a specific time of day now, too. Earworms for Rose and Bean (with the two youngest kids listening in and absorbing a great deal), and Memrise for me. I’ll start the girls on a German course at Memrise soon. (Beanie is doing state capitals there, though, and having a fine time. And we’ve finished the Trees of England course!) As for Jane, she’s plugging away at Japanese with Earworms and Pimsleur.
The sourdough starter is coming along quite nicely. It’s about ready to bake with, as soon as I get a chance. Rilla has appointed herself Chief Assistant Starter-Feeder. She loves to peek inside the crock a few hours after feeding time to see how high and fluffy the starter has grown.
The word “crock” reminds me that I JUST DISCOVERED YOU CAN MAKE CHEESECAKE IN THE CROCKPOT!!!! Amusingly, I learned this at Pinterest mere minutes after declaring that I can’t bear to look at Pinterest right now because of all the Christmas cheer. I am so not there yet. If anybody uses the words “Advent” and “this weekend” in a sentence together, I shall scream, I’m warning you.
Great conversation about blogging going on over at Jenn’s. I chimed in to express my angst over photos, which you’ve heard from me plenty of times before. These days, I hardly ever use my camera (it’s never been the same since I dropped it on the street); I snap quick pics with my phone and am exactly the kind of Instagram-filter-applying hack that real photographers scoff at.
Snapped on our morning walk. I have a whole string of #morningwalk photos. I love Instagram because it means I’m finally keeping that photo-a-day journal I always meant to do. Of course this means nearly all my photos are: the trees of our neighborhood; the sky over our neighborhood; children with books on their faces; the living-room floor with children all over it; and the inside of my crock of starter.
