Here it is April 1st…Spring is arriving….or is it? I think Mother Nature is having a good laugh at our expense, perhaps her own version of an April Fools Day joke.
We’re getting a big old storm, ice pellets are hitting the window upstairs. I can hear them as I write this, they sound like thousands of fingers on a computer key board furiously pounding out a story or a new blog post. Oh if I could only type that fast, I’d save so much time.
I’m avoiding looking outside. It’s just too bleak looking. To think that yesterday it was sunny and the temperature mild. I spent the day outdoors mostly, washed my car inside and out, and spent the later part of the afternoon doing something I have been thinking about for some time, build a birdhouse. Ha ha !!
I’m really starting to get concerned about my retirement. It seems like I am becoming the cliche of an old retired guy, building birdhouses and pine furniture….that’s not really what I had in mind for retirement, although I must admit, building the birdhouse was kind of fun. Why is it that guys who retire seem to want to build stuff, especially guys who never worked at anything requiring some knowledge of building stuff? Doctor’s, lawyer’s, bank managers and yes, even retired call centre managers all seem to want to start building stuff out of wood the day they retire. I think we should all have been carpenters…like Jesus…they say he was a carpenter…..
It’s a shame I didn’t have it in the tree today because with the ice pellets and wind I’m sure that there is a little bird or two who would be happy to get inside out of the weather.
I really didn’t have a plan for the birdhouse, kind of just made it up as I went along. That is never a good thing trust me….it’s like driving a boat in thick fog, you don’t know where you are until you arrive. That’s kind of how the birdhouse took shape. A few boards, circular saw, electric drill, some glue, nails and umm…well….I built a house for birds. I think.
Now I can’t wait to get to the cottage and hang it up in a nice tall tree. It’s just a matter of waiting to see who takes up residence in it. I’ve discovered that just might be the actual fun of building a birdhouse, the anticipation and ultimate satisfaction, (hopefully) of seeing a couple of birds move in. Especially when I didn’t build it with any particular bird in mind, just small birds.
Who knows, maybe it will become a home for squirrels. The do occasionally take over a birdhouse. That’s OK too, I am not fussy, as long as some little creature gets some use out of it.
Wendy, who is hard at work painting our bathroom while I write this, (obviously she has some work ethic still remaining) came out to the garage yesterday while I was creating my home for birds.
“Watcha doing?” she asked.
“Building a bird house.” I answered, smiling as I went about my endeavor of gluing some twigs and pieces of tree branches on the walls of my new creation. I had an idea that it would look cool if it blended in to the surrounding trees.
Two of my fingers were glued together at that point, but I didn’t want to mention it to her.
“Uh-huh” she said, as I held it up my work in progress to show her. I noticed she turned her head away rather quickly, averting her gaze, looking towards the back of the garage like she had just seen a vision of the Virgin Mary in a canoe or something on the back wall.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, laying down the glue govered pieces of wood, “Something funny is there?”
“No” she quickly replied, “Nope nothing at all, well I better get back inside the house, Doctor Oz is coming on in a few minutes….don’t want to miss it.”
“It will be a good birdhouse when I am finished.” I said, sensing her attempts at trying not to giggle out loud. “I’m just getting started, give me time, it’ll be nice.”
I held it up for her to see, turning it in my hand, a piece of the wood I had glued on fell off and stuck to my shoe.
“I know it will Dear.” she answered, her attempts to not giggle turning her face into a twisted rather scary look, “I’m sure.”
She paused for a second, turned her face away from me, before asking, “Where are you planning to hang that?”
“That” I retorted, “Is a birdhouse, not a ‘that’ and I am thinking it will look good in that tall spruce tree between us and the neighbors.”
“At the camp?” she questioned. I nodded yes, while trying to pull my two stuck fingers apart, with my other hand. I had picked up a rag to try and wipe the glue off and it was now sticking to my shirt.
“OK” she said, I sensed an air of relief in her voice, “At the camp….” she paused for a second, “You weren’t planning to put it in the backyard here.” It was more a statement than a question.
“No…” I paused for a second as the rag came unstuck from my shirt and was now sticking to the birdhouse. “I wasn’t planning on that, I figured this one will go to the camp, the next one will be for our backyard here and after that, I think I will make some for the kids, they can hang them up at their places…and after that, well maybe I will make some and sell em.”
She had turned to start for the basement door, to go back in the house, that is, until I said that.
“Sell them?” her voice seemed a little icy now, no giggle. “Where?”
“Maybe right out front of the house, in the driveway, I’ll make them, you can sell them, you know I don’t like to deal with people over money stuff, but you are good at it.”
She turned slowly back to face me, her face was still kind of twisted but she had stopped giggling. “We don’t need one here.”
With that, she turned and opened the door to the basement, “Better get your fingers unglued, supper will be ready in about 5 minutes, we’re having chicken wings….you’ll need your fingers.”
OK…go ahead…take your best shot.
Perhaps I should have looked at some bird house plans first, Click Here!
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