Your Time Is Gonna Come

I’m fascinated by the birds outside my window. Huge flocks of ducks, seagulls, black birds, robins, crows, ravens, pigeons, and the occasional eagle. To watch the ducks take to the air as one and swoop into formation as they rise, is an uplifting amazing things. Hundreds of ducks. They look very much like the swarms of bees I remember from Saturday morning cartoon adventures. I watched last night as one flock flew downriver going always higher, higher, and then suddenly veering off course and dropping fast, seeming to reverse and drop into the trees, the flock emerging seconds later having doubled in size. This seems to be the pattern of ducks, they collect more wings the further they go. It’s beautiful. Ducks are mad flappers, very little gliding, it seems as soon as their little wings stop they begin to drop like a stone. Meanwhile seagulls sail past my window like kites, effortlessly. They surf the wind majestically, almost regal. Yet very business-like and matter of fact. They drift by in slow-mo right at window level, and give me a look. I imagine if they wore hats they would tip them and say “good day.”

The ice broke up while I was away. There are still huge chunks in the water that drift according to the tide. I grew up in the fresh water above the Quarryville Bridge, unaffected by the tide, so living beside tidal water is a new experience for me. As the tide came in last evening I watched as ice floes from Chatham moved upriver in front of my place and beyond. How unusual. My Miramichi, in fresh water, only runs one way. I went to bed early but not before the tide reversed and I watched the ice change course and begin floating out to the bay. This morning I caught the last two or three minutes of high tide coming in, then about a half hour of immobilization, and now it’s going out. I suppose this will be less easy to note when there isn’t huge chunks of telltale ice skimming the water’s surface.

I’m so fascinated by all this activity outside my window that I may have to close the blinds to accomplish any work today.

I’ll blog about the trip later.

Mood: dreamy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: starlight, muse
Hair: look ma! no roots!

2 thoughts on “Your Time Is Gonna Come

Add yours

  1. It’s funny. I hadn’t really noticed how closed off I was from it at my other place with the lack of windows. I used to sit on Mom’s patio and watch the birds and grey squirrels and become inspired. I don’t know how to say it, but it would change my rhythm or something, pull me back from life’s insanity, bring peace and comfort, joy for an hour or so until I went back to work or whatever. Other than the swarms of black birds in the trees outside my skylight on garbage day, in Sackville I was completely cut-off from everything, windowless. I never seemed to notice though. I wasn’t miserable or anything. Most times I was totally happy. I think I needed isolation for some reason, and now I need nature, water in particular.


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