I am not particularly comfortable with the notion of blog-as-confessional. The no-boundaries generation with its constantly spewing TMI gives me the willies.
Suffice it to say that I am dealing with life-altering challenges far beyond a toddler-who-has-become-possessed and a job where sanity turned tail and ran. I could not get through this without my wonderful friends. You know who you are. I am grateful. It makes me teary ~ then again, just about everything makes me cry right now and I’m rather close to unhinged.
I try to breathe. Outside. Fresh, cold air helps.
And so it was, last night, that as I sat on the porch in the dark, I had a visitor.
He or she swooped down and sat on the edge of a flower bed about six feet away. He looked just like this Northern Saw-whet Owl, photographed by Rick & Nora Bowers and reposted with their permission from The Owl Pages. (It’s a bookmark must for owl lovers.)
He looked at me. I looked at him. He was likely tracking the occupants of the chipmunk holes close by. He swooped up to the maple tree in the center of the yard. Waited a minute, then dove down to another spot on the lawn. He silently lifted and glided away.
That’s never happened before.
I’ve never seen an owl in my neighborhood.
Until last night.