#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

e.e. cummings

I have a valentine beside me and it’s not Frank, who has risen early. This is a valentine to pecks my sleeping hand like a little bird.It’s a boy who is happy I’m home and he is nestling in warm. I make him hot chocolate and marshmallow, two eggs and a bagel. He is happy I’m home. I go out for my ski, same trail as yesterday. The snow is faster today and it’s an easy ski. Still no sign of birds, except tracks. And people are walking their dogs. Two dogs I come across are frightened and won’t pass me. I have a client today late morning; squeezed in because I’m been away. In the late afternoon we have so much fun playing pickle: my son and daughter and her fiance. I play well, we laugh and really enjoy ourselves. I have bought a few valentine treats for dinner. Frank cooks a delicious meal and all of us are there together to enjoy it. After dinner, some talk about the wedding. Some dessert. Some valentines. Then I must go upstairs and do a bit of prep for my all-day manuscript workshop tomorrow. Leaving the club after pickle I call everyone’s attention to the light: it’s 5: 20 and still light out. Days are lengthening. In about two weeks we’ll change the clocks and get that lingering hour of daylight to enjoy. It isn’t until I am editing my bird box photo to post it here tonight that I notice the “Private” sign and I laugh. As if the nests inside the boxes are giving trespassers fair warning.

Bird Boxes in the meadow