It's All Relative, Really

I woke to a morning coming down easy, just the way Lionel Richie said it would be. But it wasn't Lionel who woke me, it was Stevie Wonder singing "Overjoyed" on Spotify. I was happy to be up and about and happy to start my daily constitutional before the paying guests arrived. 

I entered the kitchen singing along with Stevie, "... though I doubt that they do, my dreams do come true." I walked to the French window and I threw back the curtains with a flourish. 

The morning sunlight sparkled on the dew-laden lawn like a sky full of stars. Or if you doubt it, then believe me when I say that it did move me to the brink of writing poetry. I confess that even though I haven't written verse since becoming a member of Poets Annonymous, I still sometimes consider it.

Mourning doves lined the fence row. Crows argued over a few tasty morsels. Rabbits frolicked in the grass. And squirrels busied themselves on the fenceposts. 

It may not have been a perfect utopia but it was a reasonable facsimile and close enough to be getting on with.

The squirrel's behavior interested me strangely. I recognized the two pint-sized delinquents as Twizzler and Ziggy. They seemed to be laughing, playing goosey, and pointing my way if it can be called pointing when done by a squirrel.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I realized, pointing or not, that I was not the object of interest. It was Mutter climbing the lanai screen. Again!

There he was hanging in space as it were, staring directly into my eyes with a look that said, "Uh oh, what do I do now?" It didn't require an Einstein to realize that Mutter had been entertaining his two young nephews, probably accepting a dare to climb the screen and allow me to catch him in the act. Typical of their shenanigans.

Now that he'd been caught, he seemed unsure of his next move. As usual, he hadn't thought it through. As soon as our eyes locked, he panicked. He was conflicted about whether to climb up to the roof or jump to the ground.  

In the meantime, Twizzler and Ziggy were enjoying Mutter's distress immensely. Did I say they were enjoying it? I should have said they were overjoyed. Twizzler got such a kick out of it that he fell off the fence.

Meanwhile, Mutter had regained his land legs just in time to see Twizzler laugh himself off the fence. The scales fell from Mutter's eyes and he saw all clearly. It was turning out to be a big day for falling.

Mutter raced across the lawn and up the fence with such intensity, that it left no doubt about his lack of appreciation for the practical joke. He laid into Twizzler like an all-in wrestler and in a split second the younger squirrel was scampering across the fence rail with Mutter inches behind him.

Ziggy seemed to think it was a game of catch-me-if-you-can and he began chasing Mutter. The three of them raced across the top of the fence, then turned the corner and continued to the garden gate. Down the face of the fence they flew and then across a section of lawn that brought them back to where it all started.

They continued to chase each other along that three-fold path. As I watched, it slowly dawned on me that from my vantage point, they were traversing all three dimensions that make up physical reality.  

As I watched their antics, the four of us were, in effect, proving over and over again, Einstein's theory of special relativity.

At this point, you may be asking yourself, 'Has Genome finally come unglued? What the heck does Einstein have to do with this post?'

You're justified in asking those questions, of course. But all I can say in reply is that these mindful quantum moments don't come along every day and when they do, I like to take advantage of them.

For some reason, and I don't know why, but for some reason the ranygazoo in my backyard this morning reminded me of a Carroll Bryant quote. I'd like to paraphrase it here: 

"Some of us make things happen. Some of us watch things happen. And then some of us wonder, What the hell just happened?"

Squirrel Neighbors

We have a squirrel living with us at 2222 Forest Lane. When I say 'living with us,' I mean that he resides in the trees overshadowing our fence row. You could say he lives in the guest house if a tree can be a guest house.

I know that Mutter, that's the name I gave him, Mutter doesn't consider his home a guest house. He probably sees me as an intruder. I’m sure when our house was built, he must have watched the construction and complained to his spouse about the intrusion.

Every time I step outside to feed the birds—and, yes, the squirrels too, and I use the plural form because there are several living close to us. As I was about to say, I see him perched on the fence, or gliding through the branches, or scolding me from somewhere in the foliage. He makes it clear that he doesn't approve of my nearness to his home. And who can blame him, really?

One evening I saw him sitting on the fencerow that separates my backyard from his bit of woodland. He seemed to be watching me watching him. He wore a look that expressed his dissatisfaction, or perhaps his suspicion that I was up to no good. I know that he suspects me, much like the efficient Baxter, Lord Emsworth's secretary, suspects everyone.

If the previous paragraph got past you like a fastball, don't worry because just as the man wrote in his letter, now we see through a glass, darkly, but then all will be revealed. Not a direct quote but you get the gist I think.

 

Watching him through the French windows of the lanai, I didn't immediately realize that his friend and cohort in mischief was climbing the screen of the lanai. That's right! I don't exaggerate when I say that Breezer, the friend, was clinging to the screen about eight feet off the ground.

This was simply over the line. Too much! I'm completely sympathetic to the disappointment and perhaps even chagrin of the original inhabitants of 2222 Forest Lane, Waterford, but the present behavior was a hair short of breaking and entering. I couldn't have it.

I mean consider the birds. They live here too and that's a documented fact that can be proven in court. They don't hold a grudge. We all live in harmony. I feed them twice daily and in return, they sing and fly about bringing sweetness and light. In fact, several birds were feeding along the fence even as I watched Breezer climb the screen.

I waved my arms in the air to let the miscreant know that his behavior was unacceptable. Nothing, he simply looked at me as if to say, Yeah, what're you going to do about it? I realized then that steps would have to be taken. I moved close to the French windows and said, "Don't make me open this door...do not make me. I will open this door."

Still nothing. Probably because the door was closed and he couldn't hear me. Still, I repeated it with increased volume, cadence, rhythm, and inflection to make sure it was recognized as a dire warning. You know, like my parents used to do. 

"Don't make me open this door."

Nothing. Not an iota of change in the goings-on.

There was nothing else to do. I opened the door. It was like Gabriel had sounded the coming of Judgement Day. The crows launched themselves into the air in all directions. The doves and songbirds seemed unsure about what action they should take, if any, but it was a different matter altogether with the squirrels.

The crow evacuation was a noisy one and at the sound, the squirrels froze in place, like the sassy little peasant children you read about in fairy tales who get uppity with a wizard and then find themselves unable to move. They stared at each other as if to say, What now?

I stepped onto the lanai. Breezer dropped onto the ground and scampered toward the fence. Mutter launched himself into the foliage and began cruising through the branches.

In hindsight, the whole thing was like the behavior you might expect from those workers of iniquity made famous in that New York Times best-selling book.

From the lanai, I scanned the yard and saw that Mutter had stopped on a branch that gave him a clear view of me and the backyard. Breezer had climbed to the top of the fence where he stopped to look my way again.

Realizing that they were a safe distance from me and had succeeded in annoying me more than a little, they couldn't resist self-satisfied flicks of tails and expressions that told me they were full of themselves. 

"Mission accomplished," they seemed to say.

I suppose this means we may never be friends. Not real friends. Because making friends takes time and effort on both sides. But I'll keep trying. Maybe one day.

Trouble in the Hood

Sunshine called to me, this morning when I opened the curtains to the lanai. It poured in through the screens in droves. The natural cheerfulness was doubled by the sight of Molly, the young rabbit, nibbling grass shoots along the base of the fence.

It was an early hour, early to me at least. Ms. Wonder assures me that the day begins far in advance of my waking. In fact, she often tells me little stories about the people she sees out and about when she's breakfasting.

Suffice it to say the stories often involve neighbors, who walk braces of dogs every morning at the same time. When they meet up, there's a conflagration, if that's the right word, of laughing, woofing, wagging, and sniffing, among all parties.

It all makes for pleasant stories but let's not go there right now. It's a story for another time. 

I hesitated to enter the lanai and frighten Molly. She usually doesn't stay long because seeing her in the yard means she's sneaked out of her bedroom, at an early hour just as I mentioned, and her mother will be calling her soon.

Just as I wrote that last sentence, Molly bolted for the hole in the fence and darted through on her way home. I took the opportunity to enter the lanai and prepare the fruit and nuts for the neighborhood wildlife.

That's when I saw Mutter. He's one of the squirrels living in the nearby forest. His apartment faces our lanai and his day begins with a view that looks through a leafy curtain onto the sunshine that I'm watching spread across our mutual yard. Each morning, about the time I'm looking out, he's on the fence looking in.

He's a curious little guy and seems utterly fascinated with me and my activities. He often spends hours staring at me, openly and sometimes in hiding. I think he watches me anytime I'm on the lanai or in the yard. No matter what I do, every step I take, every move I make, he'll be watching me.

Mutter has seen more than a few summers but he's still a lithe, athletic, and distinguished little guy. He sports a jaunty mustache and has a mischievous gleam in his eye. He and his wife, Buffy, are the senior members of the wild neighbors. Buffy is the sister of Squeaky, who is paired with Breezer. 

Mutter and I stood unmoving giving each other the eye both hoping the other would be the first to look away. I won. But only because Mutter's brother-in-law, Breezer, popped his head above the fence and began chatting excitedly. Mutter ignored him at first but when Breezer joined him atop the fence, Mutter relented and gave him full attention.

Breezer was clearly agitated about something. Probably something having to do with his wife, Squeaky. It's a common occurrence and it usually leads to conversations between brothers-in-law. After some pleading, the two of them lept into the tree branches and disappeared.

I quickly moved to distribute the feast. The mourning doves from the local convent, The Order of Sisters of Brunswick, lined the fencerow, reading from left to right in order of diminishing size. The Cardinal family sat side by side in the middle range of the fence. Dad, Mom, and the three little tykes waited patiently for me to distribute the seeds. 

The woodpecker, Mr. Woodrow, was busy drilling for insects on a tree trunk standing a little deeper in the forest. Mr. Woodrow is a bit of a loner, somewhat standoffish, and a little critical. He usually ignores the goings-on in the yard, which he considers so much foolishness.

After sprinkling nuts and berries along the fence railing, and then scattering peanuts around the lawn, I re-entered the lanai. No sooner had the screen door closed behind me than the crow gang from Magnolia Green flooded the yard.

I call them a gang because they like to throw their weight around when free food is available and scarf down more than their fare share. They claim to be good, proper socialists but when it comes to putting their words into action, they are weighed in the scales and found wanting.

The crows began swallowing whole peanuts while they had them all to themselves. They sometimes tried swallowing two at a go. Futile of course. The regulation crow beak is designed to swallow one at a time.

It required mere seconds, for the cause of the crows' frenzied eating behavior to appear. Namely, Spinner, Twizler, and Ziggy, the three youngsters who belong to Mutter and Buffy began their routine.

These three juveniles are without effective parental guidance. Buffy tries. Oh, how she tries, but to no avail. Of course, Mutter might make a difference if he were to make an effort. But there it is.

This trio loves to snatch peanuts away just as a crow's beak is about to close on it. They don't intend to eat the nut. They just want to annoy the crows. Eventually, they turn from snatching peanuts to chasing each other's tails. They race around in wild circles, their faces hidden in wide-open laughter. 

At some point, the two older brothers will chase each other up the fence and into the shrubbery. Ziggy, on the other hand, gets so carried away that he forgets everything else and is often the one who gets caught in the act after his two brothers go into hiding.

The Cardinal family watched all the ranygazoo with calm interest and patience. They knew that eventually calm would be restored and they could eat in peace.

The dove sisters, observing the chaos from their elevated positions atop the fence, looked on with worried expressions. No doubt their concern was that someone would be hurt. Their expression seemed to say, 'Can't we all get along? There's plenty for everyone.'

 

Mr. Woodrow, the woodpecker, had watched the commotion from his breakfast spot on the tree. His expression was one of derision. I imagined his lip curled in scorn but it was a pointless exercise of course. I could sense his attitude as one that rated the entire affair as, 'much ado about nothing'.

I am so often amazed that the works of William Shakespeare are so widely known even among those you might least expect to be familiar with his plays. It just goes to show you.

Cirque des Écureuils

I was back home from my morning outing in Brunswick Forest, and enjoying a cup of the steaming as I sat on the lanai enjoying the squirrel circus in my backyard.

The show has expanded since we last spoke. It now includes about 7 squirrels, 4 doves, 2 crows, an assortment of songbirds, and a mallard duck. I know! Makes me remember Our Gang of yesteryear. Perhaps I'll call it the Squirrel Soliel and charge admission to the kids on the street.

"You seem..." said a voice from backstage.

"Aiiieee!" I said, shooting into the air about four inches and spilling my coffee. With my attention intensely focused on the act currently occupying the big top, I was not prepared for disembodied voices from outside my head.

"Sorry," said Ms. Wonder for it was she who had silently streamed into my presence.

"Is something troubling you," she said. "You seem unusually agitated this morning."

"It's nothing much," I said. "Just one damned thing after another is all."

"But just one thing at the moment?" she said.

"Nothing major," I said, "I'm just wondering about something that happened on my walk this morning."

"Do tell," she said.

"OK," I said. "Underneath one of the pines in the open savannah..."

"Longleaf pines," she said.

"Someone had collected several pine cones and placed them in the grass. Don't ask," I said, "because I have no idea."

She sipped her own cuppa without responding. I felt it was safe to continue, so I did.

"It seemed bad feng shui," I said, "so I picked up a handful and tossed it back onto the pine straw near the base of the tree."

She nodded. I continued.

"I immediately noticed that my forearms were covered in a fine, brown dust, similar in color to the pine cones and so I assumed that the little specs on my arms came from."

"Makes sense," she said.

"But when I got back to my car and began cleaning the dust off my arms, I realized that the stuff was all over my shirt too. It seemed far too much to have come from pine cones."

I waited for her comment but it was another bust. No reply.

"And so I began to wonder if something was blowing around in the air. I remembered a movie about some interstellar dust that fell on a small community in the Everglades--a cloud of dust that was actually spores bringing alien life to Earth."

"And?" she said.

"And I began wondering if I'm pregnant."

"I see," she said, "and so you think you may possibly be the agent responsible for altering life on Earth as we know it forever. And you're going to let one little thing ruin your day?"

"Well, when you put it like that it really doesn't seem like a big deal," I said.

At that moment, she must have gotten a text message from her employer because she quickly left the lanai and she hasn't yet returned. Perhaps I should make an appointment with my primary physician just to be safe.

What To Do?

This morning, after the initial 12-point inspection and servicing of the feline members of the household, I sat on the screened porch and watched the squirrel circus performing acrobatics on the bird feeders. These cirque d'écureuils performances put me in a happy mood on most days. Today was not one of them.

Is it possible to get too much of a good thing? As illogical as it sounds, I'm convinced that it's true. In fact, that's the situation I find myself in. You don't need to be reminded that we recently moved to Wilmawood from Durham. The news has surely lost its savor by now. 

When I say "we" moved, I'm talking about Ms. Wonder, three cats, and me. Sorry, I can't leave it at three cats, I must tell you who they are, reading from left to right, Beignet, Sagi, and Uma Maya. 

So what's the problem, you probably wonder. It's too much of a good thing; that's the problem. Don't roll your eyes like that. Too much of a good thing is not only possible, it's also common. Too much pie, too much alcohol, too much sun, shall I go on? I didn't think so.

But too much of what I hear you asking. Wilma has 12 different districts to explore and each of them is filled with delights that demand attention. Then there's the seaside. The port city alone has 3 beaches and within a 30-minute drive, there are 3 more to the east and another 3 to the west. 

See the problem now? I have work to do and I can't be traipsing around every day having fun in the sun but how, I ask you, how can I resign myself to working at home and missing out on all the exploring. 

Now you're asking yourself a different question--why, you're wondering haven't I taken up the issue with Ms. Wonder, the go-to gal for all perplexing problems. She knows everything, of course, and always has a ready solution.

Well, I did take it up with her and she wasn't helpful. I don't mean that she was stumped. No, she was up to her neck in a soup cooked up by her employer, which I will not name. They do much good in the world and they try hard. They really do. We must value that hard work.

Now, when Wonder isn't available, I usually find inspiration in the lives of historical figures of great renown. Napoleon would have done whatever he wanted, of course, but that sounds more than a little self-centered and quite risky. Now I think about it, considering Moscow and Cairo and whatnot, perhaps it's time to take Napoleon off the list of historical F's of great R.

Catherine the Great would have chosen a path that would benefit the most people. Women always seem to have a more balanced and sensible approach to life's moments, don't they? Now let me think; benefits the most people. What could that be?

So you see my point. What to do? I'd phone you and ask for your opinion but I'm sure that you're quite busy this Wednesday afternoon. 

Let me give it a bit more thought and I'll get back to you. I'll give you an update on that Napoleon question too. Turns out the squirrels have gotten a second wind and they're quite entertaining. Enjoy the day.