Something about the ski half pipe fascinates Athena. She is riveted to it, her head moving left and right as the skiers do their tricks, and her ears twitching in disgust when the camera locks on plain old human faces. I wish I knew what it was that intrigues her. Do the flying skiers look like birds in those distance shots, as they helicopter over the snow, with their skis crossed? It wasn't the television itself, I'm sure. She looked away, disinterested, when it went to commercial.
I never understood why people write at length about the first robin of spring. The other signs of life are so much more compelling to me. The first bees of spring, now there's something that excites me. I got up close to my peach tree this morning, to smell those hardy blossoms that I have been obsessing over. As I enjoyed the tiny, delicate fragrance, I realized I could hear buzzing. I managed to see three honeybees, in my quick inspection. I cooed at them lovingly, and tried to take their picture, but I'm not sure yet whether any were in focus in close range. My second favorite sign of spring appears to be on schedule as well--my forsythias are starting to develop tiny, red-coated, tightly-furled buds. I get great joy at that first explosion of vivid yellow when they bloom, and that can only be a few weeks off now. And if I had to choose a bird to herald in spring, my pick would be gorgeous scarlet cardinals. Yes, I know they have an association to Christmas, but to me, when they start getting frisky and noisy in spring is when I get excited to see them. They catch my eye on purpose. One landed on my side window when I was in my car in the driveway, just to be sure I saw him. They chatter at me next to my open windows. I swear the ones in my Park have their own language, and are judging me. I hadn't lived here a month before one was calling from the back yard, "Facebook! Facebook!" Nosy little birds. Let a girl have a social network already.
I had another round of dry needling at physical therapy today. Before he got me on the table, the therapist called me away from the last exercise I was doing, saying it was time for me to find my beach. He knows how intense the pain is for me while the needle is doing its job, and that I have to find my happy place. Today was particularly rough, but another patient was in the clinic with her adorable three year old daughter. I told him it was all I could do not to swear out loud, and upset the mom and little girl. But on the inside, the expletives were flying around my happy place. Some beach.
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