The aftermath of a feeder collision
As dusk approached last evening, somewhere between sunset and moonrise, the dog on his tether managed to foul the feeder pole. A full container of seeds, spread out effectively. No sense in trying to gather things back; the birds will return in the morning and take care of it.
Several hours later, while I was up responding to a combo of full bladder and diuretics, the outside light by the garage came on. From the living room, I could see that the “night shift” had arrived. That little redhead we’ve noticed in the neighbourhood. She was busily recovering seeds (her supper?) until she caught sight of me, and decided to wander off to a less congested area.
The promised snow assured that no school institution, from daycare through to collegiate, would open today. It took a while for actual flurries to fall, and by mid-afternoon we lost sight of the outside world. No real accumulation here (10% of the amounts mentioned), but I haven’t been out on the roads. My life revolves around risk reduction, and when the road disappears, I don’t want to watch. Home is the place to be!
Another high level resignation in Ottawa, despite assurances that there is nothing important happening. I’m sure we’ll learn enough to draw our own conclusions; perhaps even merit a precipitated set of elections. Politics is a funny business, concerned less with governance than appearances. Might have something to do with donors; imagine a world where we gave a per-person amount to each party and let them work with real budgets, just like the common man they purport to serve. Instead, the parties spend like profligate politicians. Is that an oxymoron? Must ask a friend or two with similar leanings.
