Harley, Milo (the cats), and I have something in common - we love birds, but not as pets. The cats would love to attack and feast. In fact, their favorite toys contain faux bird feathers. I spied modern birdhouses in pages 108-110 of the new issue of Dwell. Maybe one could dangle from our current apartment porch, but I do plan to hang a birdhouse on a tree in our future backyard. I'd love to sip morning coffee and watch twittering birds eat breakfast.

I prefer decorative birds. I dipped into Barnes & Noble for coffee and Bird & Nest labels (stickers) as well as a blue and red bird standard notebook lured me into a purchase. I predict to return for the matching blue and red file folders. I browsed Evie Coates's blog to see this bird-influenced nursery. I adore the birdcage. Allison hipped me to more bird cards and other pretties. I revisited Eloquent Ink, mourning that not one Houston shoppe sells their wares. I chose this gift tag for a parcel to a friend. I stopped by Target for Method cleaning products and bought this adorable tote bag. I seriously need new clothes yet I bring home bird items instead! I even purchased The Final Solution: A Story of Detection by Michael Chabon because of the cover and yes, for the story. The $5 price tag didn't hurt either (on sale at B & N). Did I mention this mobile that would look lovely in a grown-up's room, too? Like mine? Or this umbrella? See, birds are everywhere - it is not just me!

I've long admired birds. A regiment perched on a telephone wire. Swarms of black birds near a Plano, TX highway - as if an invisible sheet was flapped, launching fowls into the air. White egrets flying alongside my car in a park near our home. Grackles (Johnny's favorite) underfoot. The birds in Matthew 6, a passage that should be tattooed on my worrisome chest. As children my brother and I did have baby chicks as pets - Pinky and Johnny (a foreshadowing?). Pinky was literally pink, Johnny was blue, both dyed in the eggshell - PETA would disapprove, I'm sure. They grew out of color into roosters; apparently Pinky fooled us into believing his gender was female. They began to crow too early each morning and I choose to remember that we gave them away to a farm. We were not close to my Mom's Dad, but I do remember his caged bird who sang the chorus of "I Left My Heart in San Francisco." I swear. Word for word.

What is it about birds? My long time desire to gain the ability of flight? Time to contemplate.

1 comment:

allison said...

I have that journal too. We should be on Trading Spaces. They'd never figure out whose place is whose.