Wildlife and Writing

I'm writing outside today.  A hummingbird, amethyst cuirass around its throat, has just buzzed me to see if I am going to get up and chase it.  Satisfied I'm not going to move,  it zipped over to the fountain and danced in the air in front of it as if it were a Venus Flytrap that eats hummingbirds.  Eventually, it settled on the fountain's basalt column and took furtive sips.

I'm hoping to get some writing done; right now it's overcast and not too hot out on the deck (the sunlight bouncing between the deck and the sliding glass patio doors spikes the heat around the time the sun passes through the meridian).  I'm going back and forth between typing out a draft (which feels more productive) or writing longhand in a Newly Minted Book of Art (which can be a good starting point when inspiration runs dry--as long as I don't devolve into channeling Atlantian Glyphs)).  With any luck, the Lycanthropic Tea Time Ritual Children will not come out to shriek their incantations.   

Now a pileated woodpecker is examining our cherry tree and occasionally peering at me from behind a trunk.

Yesterday, Mark cleaned out the garden shed.  It had succumbed to entropy and most of the contents were in a disorganized clutter.  He also confirmed that rodents -- either small rats or large mice -- had taken up residence in the shed.  He cleaned out the shredded insulation and shopping bag they'd used to make a nest and swept the shed's floor.  To Aoife's great excitement.  

I'm pretty sure she spent a solid three hours running into the shed, out of the shed, behind the shed, and back into it, all the while sniffing wildly and whining.  Based on how they would scamper toward him, Mark was of the opinion that the varmints weren't very bright, but somehow they managed to evade the dog.

A different, plainer hummingbird has arrived, and is sampling the rosemary for any early autumnal blooms.  

I spent most of the day persuing the Visual Arts:  practicing construction of pentagons and practicing the construction of Middle Kingdom Egyptian Heiroglyphs.  Later, I did some homework for my Egyptian class, translating simple phrases involving gendered singular, dual, and multiple possessives.   With any luck (and effort), this will allow me to read inscriptions of some New Kingdom artifacts that will arrive in the Portland Art Museum next month.  

Now a squirrel has dislodged an apple from the branch it was on, causing the branch to spring upward and launch the squirrel into a kind of frantic pole dance as it tries to hang on, which has released some more apples.  Thudding apples provided uneven rhythm.   This is probably a message from the universe about story submissions and rejection letters and a reminder that blogging isn't writing speculative fiction (much).