The birds are up early this morning. No wonder. I wouldn't want to sleep outdoors in this cold. Better to get up and fly around, waiting for the sun to rise. It just might rise today. The east is hazy, but that could burn off. It might warm up this afternoon, so the plants would be able to get back to their premature blooming.
The populace is not up early this morning. The Monday morning rush minute has not taken place. This unusual quiet must be the result of President's Day. I should take a day off too. I think I will.
A pair of acorn woodpeckers are playing King of the Utility Pole. The one perched on the side of the pole is trying to displace the one perched atop it. Much screeching and squawking ensues. They appear to take the conflict seriously, but I find it almost comical. Their posturing is so silly, and the goal seems so trivial. Acorn woodpeckers are more like humans than I had thought.
The afternoon sun is bright, and has made me sneeze several times as it streams in the window. Though the day looks inviting, it is still cold, as the puffs of smoke released from chimneys and stovepipes reveals. The flowers of the sourgrass are still clenched tight. I see no insects about, but the sky is periodically decorated by flights of shiny crows who break the stillness with loud caws.
I was wakened early by the noise from somewhere nearby of a small motor of the sort used on model airplanes. As was waking, I had the odd notion that it sounded as though a goose were being tortured. Thus the first thought I recall having today was "I'm glad I don't eat fois gras." I'm also glad the day has grown no odder. I'm going to make a cup of totally normal tea and contemplate the commonplace. Who knows how much longer there will continue to be such a thing?