Down on the farm, the sparrows would just pick at our feeders. They'd act like, "Eh. This cheap birdseed is ok, but just barely. Pick, pick, spit."
But our suburb sparrows! They act like tiny, starving wolves.
It's not unusual to see 50 or 60 sparrows terribly excited out back, swarming around the feeders and gleefully pushing each other aside. They even sit upon our hedge at window-level of our kitchen sink and stare at us, willing us to bring out more food.
Little beggars. Totally different than their country cousins, but then, they don't have the amount of bugs and worms they have out there, either. But we enjoy the happy, flitting guys.
It's such a treat to sit upon our couch and gaze out at this view:
Back in our other suburb house, our views consisted of a brick wall or a florescent blue one or a couple plain houses across the street. All this green is better. Much. I wonder if the window will fill with gold, instead, soon?
And here's a bit more detail from our living room which you've not yet seen:
That window, too, frames green trees, as do the windows in my upstairs room.
Ah, Debra's Upstairs World. I try to think only happy thoughts up here. Something negative happened yesterday, someone (not Tom) said something stupid, but it came to me that I didn't need to be dragging the memory of the words upstairs with me. And that was a delight--a discipline, too. A good one I believe I will keep, you know, "think on these things", the upstairs version.
And that's about all from this tired puppy today.
"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."