Over the past two and a half years of living in the old victorian, I have endured a one-sided love affair with a boy-squirrel. He spends a lot of time in the enormous tree in front of my window, and I directly opposite him at my desk. Very shortly after setting up my study, I noticed him--although it is entirely possible that he noticed me first. His acrobatics first caught my eye--he would take a flying leap from the tree on the north side of the house to the tree in front of me, on the south side. To be honest, it was not his grace or athletic ability that caught my eye so much as the small earthquake of his landing on the branch in front of me. Doesn't matter--that I looked indentured me for life to his courtship.
Imagine a 6-inch tall animal imitating the chest beating of a lusty ape. Now imagine this happening for hours on end, every day, accompanied by intense hip-gyrations and a high-pitched, repeating 'chirrrr'p.' Poor lover-boy. I hope he does not miss me now that we're moving.
Hummingbirds were another distraction from my desk. I didn't know that hummingbirds had any truck with evergreens--yet there they were, hovering next to branches two-stories above ground, less than half a foot from my keyboard. They were an irresistible distraction, their aerodynamics shanghaied my attention and set my imagination on a destination-less journey. Sometimes, though, the trip was short and steep, to the sidewalk below where a hummingbird teased the gray cat with a game of hide and seek.
File under things I will miss.
