I know. It's been a long time since I posted Chet. Here's a fresh picture for you, of Chetty at the top of the tower stairs, hoping to get a lift down. You may be sure he got both a kiss and a lift, a hug and a squeeze. He saves me every day, my little carved ebony lovepuppy.
I woke up at 3:30 AM yesterday morning, and my nasty old brain revved right up and said GET GOING YOU HAVE WORK TO DO and my body said WAAAAH WHY WHY WHY and my brain answered JUST BE GLAD IT'S NOT 2:30 I COULD DO THAT, YOU KNOW! AND NEXT TIME I JUST MIGHT! HERE, HAVE SOME MORE HORMONES SOME ESPECIALLY CRAZY ONES!
So I stayed up for five more hours, to get Bill off to Boston and Phoebe on the bus at 6 AM and Liam on the bus at 7:45 and I fed everybody and made sure they had all their stuff and at 8:30 I crawled back into bed supposedly to edit my manuscript but we all know that lying in bed with a couple of pounds of paper on one's chest is the surest soporific there is. The sun was streaming in on my face and Chet was warm and satiny and snoring gently by my side and my arm was draped over him and two hours just flew away while the world waited and life got better. Bluebirds were chattering and singing outside the whole time.
When I woke up I went out into the greenhouse which I had filled up for the winter only the day before
and I gazed at my plants and breathed and was thankful for this wonder, this best gift ever, this little summer-crammed room, saving my soul even as things are dying outside
for those big shrubs on the top shelf are gardenia and poet's jasmine, the things I need to survive winter...and oh I must take some heliotrope cuttings today!! I always forget!
There are hibiscus and begonia
and many geranium cuttings, rooted and just waiting to burgeon. There is lobelia seeded into every pot, already abloom. So we will have plenty of whitefly this winter.
And I walked out into the backyard and saw a bird hopping on the ground and thought, that doesn't seem right, that it should hop like that with me nearby...
so I drew closer and darned if it wasn't a male bluebird who couldn't fly.
and he proved to be surely the fattest most beautiful bluebird on the planet. From the shrill of his voice when I picked him up I could tell he was born this year, perhaps on our place. His wings check out, no breaks or even bruises and he's fat as butter but he can't fly so I will give him food and time and love.
and later on when he's rested up and trying his wings, a screened flight tent and we will see what all that does for him.
His two companions keep circling the yard looking for him and calling and calling. They saw me catch him and take him inside and I swear they followed me around the yard all day, calling disconsolately. I told them I'd get him back to them as soon as I could.
It was a lucky day all around. Lucky for him, lucky for me.