Where Have You Been?

Hello, it's me.

It's been one year, and fifty weeks since I last felt compelled to share my thoughts with you. My last post was on my Mother's birthday in 2013. I wrote about letting the light in. And then I went dark.
As an inveterate writer, communicator, viewer, sharer, and introvert, this method of being part of a group was an absolute blessing, allowing me to be me - from a distance, with complete control.
I am not really sure why I stopped...why my muse was no longer amused... But I just felt like I  had nothing more to say.

I did start writing a weekly column for Bird Canada  and I enjoyed being part of the greater birding community. However, I have never reacted well to having to submit something on a weekly basis,whether I felt like it or not. So I fulfilled the promise I made to myself to do it for one year, and then I stopped that too.

And then I wasn't writing anything.

The funny thing, or not so funny thing, is that when I stopped writing, I began to feel  angry and negative. I think I had unwittingly shut off the vent to my feelings, and I  found myself exploding inside. So here I am.
I certainly didn't think I would get this urge to call on my old friends in the blogosphere this evening, but  I did, and I think I will just roll with it.

Hello!
I have a new camera, and many shots to share ... So I think I will just post a few to provide some context and texture  to what I have seen in the past while. If you're out there, and seeing this, welcome back!

As "they" say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Here's a short little 43,000 word book.

Out on a Limb

Long Beach

Sea Lions in Tofino, BC

Roses in Victoria, BC

White Crowned Pigeon

Antiqua

Sigh.

Bird thoughts.

The Landing

Maine is awesome.

Birds' Eye View

I won a free copy of Richard Crossley's book with this!

Reading Market in Philadelphia

Sisters

The Two-rodded Fisherman

Roatan

Morning storytelling.

Roatan

Our new neighbour.

Haloomi and Tomatoes. If you haven't you should.

Homemade goodness.

It's never too cold for a Caesar.

First we feast with our eyes.

A huge flock of Snow buntings - REAL snowbirds

It's been almost two years, and during that time I have travelled throughout Canada, the States, the Caribbean and Honduras. I always keep my camera with me, and I took great pleasure in taking a good, long, look around at the things I enjoy most...a bird in song, a captured sigh, the wind in the water, 

food so good that you feast with your eyes, friends and family 

and all the little bits in between that make us who we are.

Bits, Bites, Books, and Birds

Dear Readers,

This bloggy thing has been bothering me for awhile.

Have I said everything I've had to say? I don't think so. And people who have heard me rant on occasion would likely agree.

Has my muse left? Maybe. At least She appears to have been taking a leisurely walk about my mind, scratching here, sniffing there. Looking under rocks, poking her nose in places she shouldn't, and generally being absent from the frontal lobes.

Though recently, in the past week or so, she's  come knocking. Gently tapping me awake in the middle of the night. Presenting ridiculous things to think about, that once I fall back to sleep, I immediately forget. I awake to a wisp.

I've been circling the computer lately. Looking at it. Bringing up the blog. Checking for visitors or comments. None recent.

I miss them both.

But unless you put it out there, there is no there for people to come and visit.

So where has my there to put out gone? Or perhaps, the better question is not where it has gone, but why has it gone?

There are times I can't shut my mind off. It's firing on 8 cylinders, rocking and rolling over the events of the day, a bit of a book I've read, a bird I've just seen, a bite I've just taken -and I want to talk about it all.

But I can't. At least, I have been telling myself I can't because my LABEL is not inclusive enough.

Good god. I can't believe I just wrote that!

My marketing gene is trying to make a pitch in the middle of a presentation to my public

MY point is, that having called this blog "Featherbrained" I have defined it as a blog primarily about nature. And as a result I have met all of these amazing naturalists.

And I am not sure if they want to hear about things like The Day I Stuck Out My Thumb in Banff , or  Biffy Buffing is Not For Old People or Aunt Ethel Made Amazing Jam Buns or A Child's Version of Old Mother Hubbard, or My Favourite Meal Ever This Week, or....See what I mean? Not a thing about birds, or birding, or nature.

After researching many blogs on line, looking for a template that would allow me to be more multi-dimensional I came up empty, unless I choose to go the website route.

No, I don't.

So, gentle reader. Here's the deal.

I'm going to change this blog up a bit. Mix up the storyline. And write about whatever I feel like. I'll still call it Featherbrained..but perhaps on the non nature days, I'll provide a spoiler alert,so if you're not so inclined to read about The Lesson of Bertha Archer or whatever I choose to share, well, then you can just click on over to something or someone else. I won't mind, and I'll no longer feel guilty!

When you see a feather, it's about nature. When you don't? It's not.

                                                                    Hope you  choose to linger a little longer,
                                                                                                                                   Susan

                                                                                                                                                                                          

Hey, Look Me Over!

Three weeks of travel along the back roads and shorelines of the eastern seaboard, and I now have a raft of pictures to wade through.

It’s amazing what we feel we need to share with others. And while it could be argued that that includes this blog, a blog is different. People must actually seek it out and choose to be engaged by reading it. The stuff of dreams and nightmares that has been erected along our North American highways and byways is something else entirely!

What started this train of thought was this nightmarish rendition of a duck found nesting on eastern Long Island. If I was a little kid, in the back of Daddy’s car, and saw this thing rolling by, I’d be having bad dreams for a month!  The Big White Duck is actually a little museum that can hold about 4 people at a time. Once you’re laid out the back door, another person can slide in through the front. You’ll be greeted by a lonely woman who loves to cluck about the reason the duck exists (built by a duck farmer as a place from which to sell eggs in the 1930’s). It’s all slightly quaint and no doubt, gives people something to crow about during hunting season.

Not far from The Duck is Popeye. He stands beside a little red tractor, pipe tightly clenched as he beckons people to come in and visit the fresh market stall which, from time to time, features spinach.  He’s the hardest working employee in the place –stands there all day, never takes a break, always smiling…kind of makes you want to kick’im. (And I believe several people do take shots at, and of, him). Didn’t see Olive, but likely she was in the back, cooking cobs of corn and canning spinach.

Now THIS little home is remarkable, because it is actually a lighthouse offshore from Groton, Connecticut. It was built in the empire style, using red brick and white trim so that it would match the stately homes along the shoreline. It didn’t occur to the design committee of the day that it just looks plain odd sitting out there all by itself in the harbour, waiting for a wave. My first thought when I saw it was that it would be good place for a quarantine unit, or insane asylum, or perhaps both. It was occupied until the late 1980’s when the nutter who worked there died of an incurable disease. Okay, that last part’s not true –but it was automated in 1987.

As we travelled further south, we passed giant ears of corn, peaches, tomatoes, apples –just about every kind of fruit, vegetable and nut imaginable! And they weren’t all real!  And that’s when it occurred to me in this land of plenty,  that most of  these attractions were about food. Which is why this little porker is particularly apt. Piggly Wiggly, as  it turns out, was the first self serve grocery store in the United States  and launched a tsunami of change when it opened its doors. The packaging industry took off, as did canning and food preservation, labelling, marketing and advertising. No longer did you have to go and wait in line while the missus who served you and packaged your goods talked to  the chatterbox in front of you who got there first. Nope, you could stroll around the shop, pick out what you wanted, bring it to the cash register, and be on your way.

Done, done and done. This little Pig is your friend who will help you bring home the bacon easily!

We All Need a Little NYC. Really.

Mention New York City and those who have been smile knowingly, and say,  " I love it!! and I am going back as soon as I can."

Some who have never been and are NYC virgins say, " Meh..don't need to go there! Too big, too busy, too expensive..why shoud I do that

when I still haven't been to Biggar, Saskatchewan?

and it's bigger than New York, yucka yucka."

Some who have never been and are NYC virgins too, say " I can't wait to go!! It's big city mecca, the big apple, the whateverwhereverwhenever!"

And everyone is absolutely right.

But...once you go, you know.

It's an ode to urban. A capitalist's dream. An anarchist's orgasm. Sensory overload. Everything you ever wanted...and nothing you can't find.

Be all. End all.

It is the definition of superlative.

There is no end to the litany of descriptors, to the age old icons,

to the visions, the views, the captions and the quotes.

It is simple chaos. 

And all things in between.

Incredibly brilliant architecture.

Breathtaking parks and monuments to greatness.

Endless opportunity and bottomless depravity.

Wit and witless. Charm and ignorance

It's the entire ball of yarn.

Constantly being unravelled and rerolled.

It is Everyman's City.

It is Gotham. It is Camelot.

It is all places betwixt and between.

It may be American on paper..but it's really a Country unto itself. 

The vast majority of visitors find it familiar, and happily, feel at home, once the country bumpkin urge to jay-walk is quelled.

New York is the American dream personified.

Greed capitalized. Culture refined. Cuisine defined.

It is the alpha and omega of western style.

It is empathy. Sympathy. Boredom. Indifference.

And especially Patience and Fortitude.

A lesson to be learned on every corner.

A must see - again and again, and once more with feeling!

This is the City your dreams and your nightmares created.

If you don't feel alive here, you're probably not.

It's New York.

New York is the end game.

If it won't work here, it won't work.

Weird. Wired. Wonderful.

An ode to hope and humanity.

Go!

You won't be alone.

Just do it. And do it. And do it again.