When the feed store clerk came out with the heavy bag of
pigeon seed, I opened the tailgate and asked him to set it next to the months’
worth of dog food bags that are still in the back from last week’s delivery. Upon arriving home, I pulled into the garage next
to the bags of recyclable bottles and also noticed that I had forgotten to take
the trash to the transfer station last week.
Crossing the driveway, I pulled the blue tarp a little tighter
over the surplus firewood still lying in a jumbled heap in front of the garage,
waiting to be cross-stacked in place since the garage already has four orderly
rows of wood lined up from front to back. That wood ousted the little SUV that
is loaded with dog crates, which means scraping heavy frost from the windshield
each morning.
As I sit here at the laptop sitting on the kitchen table, the
black, expensive-looking boxes from my new camera are still on the table as is
the box with the new CO detector for the RV. The Garmin doctors-bag-look-a-like sits at the
end of the table with life supporting wires charging collars and handheld. Rain
crusted leather boots sit in a scattering of sand beneath the table by the door
and as I drop my gloves onto the mantle above the woodstove a small puff of
dust lifts.
The bottles, boxes and firewood will all still be there to be
taken care of when accumulating snow gives last call to bird season. But for now,
the eager young dogs need more birds, the skillful old dogs deserve more birds,
and the primetime stars in between do also, and we all know that this favorite
time will come to an end all too soon.
Some things can wait.
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