• Mustard Seed

“If you have faith the size of a mustard grain, you will say to this mountain, ‘Transfer from here to there,’ and it will transfer, and nothing will be impossible for you.” The Christ*

I kept a small bottle halfway full of mustard seeds as a visually inspiring, motivating reminder of faith, courage, and action.

• What did the drummer call his two twin daughters?  Anna one…Anna two.

• Bird Feeder

“A bird does not sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.” -Maya Angelou

Storytime:  I bought a bird feeder for our Queens, New Yolk City, backyard.  First I hung it on the base line of the inverted, triangular-topped, rusted anchor pole for the clothes line.  The squirrels hung desperately upside down like the friendly neighborhood furryman and gorged themselves on seeds like they’ve never seen food before.  So I found a rope, tied one side to the hook of the bird feeder, wrapped it around the other side and knotted it to a thick branch so that it dropped 3 feet off the branch where the squirrels couldn’t climb down because of their fat selves - no one wants to walk a tightrope.

I thought songbirds, nightingales, goldfinches, willow warblers, and colorful parrots that urban legend says escaped from Kennedy airport as they outwitted TSA, smugglers, Customs, and the NYPD, would fly around our backyard with delightful melodies and songs, and then maybe Cinderella, Rapunzel, Mulan or Snow White would come skipping into Hollis, Queens with a long fitted off the shoulder gown and thick gorgeous hair in a French bread, glass Christian Louboutin pumps with red, the blood of passionate men soles.  Butterflies and finches circle around her gorgeous head chirping without pooping and she would ask with her gorgeous big eyes closed for a magical New York City Kiss so she could learn how to spell.    

But that didn’t happen.  First the Browns came in - sparrows in a gang of 20 turning the green food feeder brown because they sat on top of each other gorging seeds like it was the Coney Island hot dog eating contest.  They painted the garden speckled white with interpretive poop dabs.

 Next the polite mourning doves arrived in a pair.  They gently pecked around the ground for scraps as they were too heavy for the feeder, and the Brown gang was not known for polite eating.  At the slightest movement the Mister and Missus fly away as their wings emit what I call a whirr purr.

The Robin showed up and walked around the yard like a boss.  He didn’t even study the seeds.  He cocked his head slightly in the direction of the ground, listening, then striking.  He pulled worms out the ground and guzzled them down with his mouth full while saying “much too good for chickadees.”

My favorite guest is the crimson red cardinal.  As I work from home on my computer, movement catches my eye by the window.  By the time I turn my head I catch him peeking inside, perched on the bars.  Before I can reach for my camera, he flies away.  I go outside to check the bird feeder and it’s empty.  I fill it back up with seeds and within twenty minutes The Cardinal is at the bird feeder alone enjoying a quiet, non-rushed meal. Sometimes he brings his plain wife and scruffy teenager.  Since it has happened about 6 times, I think it’s a pattern.  He is my cardinal and I will name him O’Reilly.  O’Reilly doesn’t say much, but I think we have an undastandin.  When the first of the Brown gang comes, I have heard him mutter in Irish: “Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat,"**

*Matthew 17:20

** May the cat eat you and may the Devil eat the cat. (irish saying)