Feathered Blessing

Opened the window this morning to release a sleepy wasp. Opened the window out wide to the warm sky. A split-tailed bird flies in to circumnavigate my head. It seems flustered. I consider it a fortuitous sign, albeit rushed. Advance boldly to letting agency. Two properties are listed with the magic words: Pets Considered. Just about affordable. More expensive than here. We drive out, scouting. These places are picturesque, in good repair. Rosehill is picturesque, crumbling, bizarre. These places have neighbours. Do we like people? I can’t remember. I’m nervous like Robinson Crusoe leaving his island. A fission of thoughts.
Take a cup of coffee outside to listen to the birds sing. A pair of finches flit into shadows on the laurel stump. They are so small in the big world, I think, and then I think of moving the fruit garden and remember that we only got our bed into the house because a window was being replaced. The finches fly close. One hovers as a hummingbird does, speeding wings on the verge of invisible. 
Mr does most of the driving, because his car is the more comfortable and mine smells like a bin. He drives and I dream. The car curves with the road, through tunnels of fronded trees, over the narrow river bridge, under the low sun. Simply, I see how beautiful it is. 


YONKS said…
Oh dear, I read you have to leave your lovely haven. As one door closes, another opens!
Botanist said…
I hope these are all good signs. Moving home can be an uncertain and stressful time.
Teresa Cypher said…
Thank you for inviting me along on that ride! So visual :-) I hope the home hunting goes well for you, soon! Rosehill *sigh* love the name...

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