Fleeting

Ice continues to cling to tree branches, days after the storm. But today, the sun shines brightly, and everything sparkles and glows, each tree decorated. I had hoped to photograph this, but the glare of the sun filled my eyes, and I could not begin to capture the beauty of what I had seen in the morning sun. It will likely be gone by the afternoon.

Notes On The Day

The crystalline ground has been covered with a powder of large white flakes, the result of an unexpected snowfall. It's treacherous to the unsteady, but beautiful.

While working upstairs, I've been listening to sheets of ice occasionally detach themselves from the roof and slide off, to come crashing to the ground. (Either that, or there's a very large animal in my attic.)

While working at my desk just now, I heard what I thought might be footsteps at my door. I ignored them and continued working, thinking it was probably a late mail delivery or a package that had been left. Upon looking over my computer and out the back window, I noticed at least ten deer of various sizes in my backyard, some of them standing on my deck, eating birdseed — that was the noise I heard. The ones that are familiar enough not to flee at the sight of me will enjoy the generous portion of food I put out for them — though as I write this, minutes later, they all seem to have disappeared.

Preoccupied

It's ironic. Today I have actual work I need to do, metaphorically piling up on my virtual desk. Yet I've spent the just about entire day so far running what should have been a quick errand, which led to my taking several photographs — that's one of them, there in that previous post — then sorting them out, making a few minor adjustments here and there. (It's for an ongoing project. I'll have more to say about it soon.)

Icicles

The Bus

I've just watched the bus drive up the street, on the way to school, with my son. All is once again right with the world — for the next several hours, at least.

Without Child

My son, at six years old, has already decided for himself that he does not want to have children — he says they would take too much time away from his important goals of being an Inventor. I always remind him that he could come to change his mind, and that he has plenty of time ahead to make that choice — but his mind seems made up, for the moment.

I wonder if he somehow understands that he's going through an era right now that is especially demanding of his parents? That, as much as we love him, being his parents is occasionally difficult and exhausting? We try not to let that show, not too much (and we know it won't last), but it's impossible to disguise completely. And he personalizes this as not wanting to have a "little guy," an endearment he's known since he was just hours old.

Or is this just a decision he's arrived at via inimitable six-year-old logic?

Betta

I have recently adopted a Betta, who now swims in peaceful solitude in a reasonably large glass cube on a shelf in my office, decorated with a selection of rocks and a large stem of bamboo. I'd been thinking, through the years, about setting up a small aquarium in there (to complement a larger one upstairs), but somehow never got around to it. I've always resisted getting a Betta, because I don't care for the way they're sold and treated ― most people are led to believe a Betta will be perfectly content in a bowl not much larger than a crumpled piece of typing paper, but that just doesn't seem right to me. Hence, the cube ― it's still not the best habitat, but it's better than a small bowl on someone's kitchen counter.

I'm not entirely sure why I changed my mind on the subject. But I am already beginning to regret having done so. In reading more, I have come to realize that I can't even begin to provide an appropriate environment for a Betta. I worry that my office is too cold. Different sources offer conflicting advice on feeding. And I can't seem to get used to his unusual habits ― he doesn't swim around as much as other fish, so I'm constantly wondering if something is wrong.

Should the worst happen, I don't think I'll replace him. Perhaps I'll find a space in the office for that small aquarium I wanted, after all.