Archive for the 'home' Category
Wolfie died on August 1st. He had been sick for several months so it was no surprise, but after living with him for 17 years I felt abruptly cut loose.
The following week I brought his ashes home in a little cardboard box with a label that read, “This is Wolfie. The companion of Estyn Hulbert.” — which I find strangely compelling. Tightly fitted inside was another box, this one made of something solid and mahogany-colored with a beveled edge at the top.
I had thought I would bury his ashes right away, but the box is still sitting on my studio desk and I can’t bring myself to spread his remains in the damp fall earth. Maybe I’ll wait until spring, when the dampness promises warmth and growth instead of dark days and freezing. Wolfie spent his final years being an old grump of a feline, so I think I’ll plant a crabapple tree over him, in honor of his crabbyness.
The household feels lopsided without him but Annabelle, Maxie, Noola and I are slowly adjusting. Extra love. Extra kindness. For all of us.
For the last fortnight the hummingbird activity at the feeder on the porch has been intense. A couple of times I’ve seen ten birds at once.
For such tiny creatures they have big attitude, reminding me of New Yorkers with their fast moves and “You lookin’ at me?” moxie.
(It was raining when I shot this, which made for noisy background, accentuating the traffic sounds.)
Indoors there’s been a lot of silent, focused, staring.
One morning I was standing looking out the side door at the garden. I was waking up, sipping my coffee, with Noola draped across my shoulders (she likes it there).
A hummingbird perched on the fence next to the tomato plants. All of a sudden he flew directly towards us and stopped at eye level, a foot away, hovering and checking us out, and then just as suddenly flew off into the trees.
Noola and I were both blown away by the experience.
The raised beds have been reduced to little bumps, practically invisible.
It was very windy over the holidays and when I went out to get kindling one morning I ended up gathering armloads of pine cones, blown down from the Norway spruce. For fun I filled a casserole dish with them, tightly lined up side by side.
A couple of days ago I found some of the cones on the floor and thought I knew for sure who the culprits were. But last night we heard a strange sound and when we investigated, discovered that the cones have been expanding in the heat and popping themselves out and away.
Not everything can be blamed on the woozles.