September 18, 2010
The caretaker woke into the deep dark wondering how much night was left. He smirked at he saw the clock saying, “5:00am” His mind was anticipating the early morning sun at that time; it forgot that summer has left with the mallards. We are now entering the season where night dominates time.
He reminded himself to step quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen since a guest heals in her cocoon sleep. He places a towel down to dampen the clank of the small plate and bowl that will hold his traditional breakfast. Coffee made; cereal poured; orange cut into six pieces. Settling down into the black night view out his window, he muses over the past seasons.
The diva is “so over him.” She is used to being attended to and he has spent most of the past three seasons away. “Caretaker, my basement! [rather than ‘my foot’]” are the only words she will say to him. She cares not that he has spent time cleaning, added beautiful art to her and filled her with joyous spirits when he’s been home. NO! She remembers that there was not a garden around her this year which makes her look a bit seedy, and improperly kept. “What have the neighbors thought all this time?” she snarls to herself.
The caretaker smiles and takes this love/hate relationship as it is. The time here and away has been spent on relationships. Hoping the each bond has been thickened and strengthened. Yet, this reflection is like looking out the blackened window, “you mostly see yourself with only faint outlines of the external world.”
By 6:30, morning began to creep into view. With great effort, it slowly pushes the settled night black away. First, it allows the eye to see the landscape outside the window, silhouettes of trees and a vague surface of Lady Lake. Morn then takes on the sky. She struggles, pushing the black towards the horizon. The black bunches up against the far shore tree line and holds its position. In response, Morn brings in the light. She flashes the great rays against the black and exposes its hidden color. The black retreats behind the horizon blazed with pink, lavender, purple, orange and blue. She, in victory, claims the sky pure blue and returns the blue to Lady Lake. Her last generous act is to set the opposite shore alight. The stage is set for the day.
The caretaker in the mist of the drama rose to breakfast the critters. Handful of peanuts and cans of birdseed were place in the assigned locations. He settled back to watch the feeding frenzy. As usual, it is the Jays that engage first. The flock descends on the deck paying no mind to the human inhabitants inside the glass. They have grown accustomed to the generous morning treat. Next the squirrels scamper heavy footed across the deck. They appear less judicious with this initial feeding; they will grab the first peanut in front of them. They know that the chipmunks will demand more food throughout the day when they will be able to be picky. It appears that the squirrels have learned from the chipmunks how to take two peanuts at a time. Rather than using their cheeks, they have learned to select a smaller peanut first and then a larger one is clamped onto as they scurry off.
“I’ve never seen a chipmunk eat breakfast, but the squirrels take that time to sit down and share the repast with me. They appear to look through the glass that separates us to greet me. It’s good to be home; I’ve missed this,” sighs the caretaker.