Wonderful Viburnum growing on the
edge of the parking lot in what I guess would have been partial shade in
summertime. They are well established shrubs, and a good roost for
House Sparrows. A flock of them settling in for the night amongst
I have always thought of them
as City Sparrows. Stubborn in their hunt for food. And in
cities, House Sparrows are always just a little on the portly side.
The House Sparrows at home appear close to starving compared to City
Sparrows. And as a rule City Sparrows are just too busy with their
own lives to pay much attention to things that don't actually fly.
But I had to be sure they were City Sparrows, because the environment was
more suburb than city. So I peered, looking for those fat little
fluffy bodies so garrulous in the evening light. And there they
were, City Sparrows, outraged by my attention.
Beyond the Viburnum was a small house, the occupant of which cares little
for any kind of modest statement that might betray a good citizen of
suburbs maintaining property values. There had been no raking up of
leaves, no putting of leaves into large paper bags, no hauling of heavy
bags to the curb for collection.
The he or she who occupies this house has
a bird feeding table that will soon require structural attention but which
still serves very adequately for those who prefer not to feed on the
ground. And there must have been a mowing machine somewhere, because
grasses in the tiny back yard would have been taller and gone to seed.
I imagine it as one of those ancient mowing machines without muffler that
over years develops eccentricity. An engine that will only start
when destruction is promised, so can never be replaced.
Then I noticed all the windows had
curtains, except one. And in that curtain-less window there was a face
looking at me. I have found that on occasions like this, it is always
best to avoid explanation. Better to smile and wave before
disappearing, otherwise there can be misunderstanding, followed sometimes by
physical or legal consequences.