Feeling less than inspired, I lifted my head to gaze out down the driveway and noted a contrail in much the same place I saw one yesterday. I had the idle thought that perhaps it was a scheduled flight that would always pass overhead at this time.
Assuming it was on schedule, of course. And following the same flight path.
Would normal people care?
When we first came to live here, before the world went haywire, we began to notice contrails going back and forth daily at the same time.
Tim, my friend in Brooklyn is permanently online with Flightradar24.com and he would be able to identify the airline and origin/destination. He, far more than I, has aviation in his DNA.
Tim used to say that he needed to be pressurized, as in an aircraft cabin, at least once a month. For him Covid has been terribly confining.
He lives in a penthouse in Brooklyn with a great view of the Statue of Liberty and ocean-going vessels navigating in and out of the harbour.
My last attempt at travel took me to check out Tim’s new premises and I ought to have a photograph of his splendid view, that he is quite proud of.
But you will not be surprised that all I can offer you is a photograph of Tim’s cat Oscar, in front of the celebrated window. You know my priorities.
Oscar is another cat that doesn’t like me, though whether this is because I am female or because he views visitors as intruders, I cannot say.
One introduces oneself to a cat and waits for developments. If they wish to be your friend they will make it plain.
Likewise, if they don’t it will be obvious.
Such as taking a swat at you, or growling.
Bribes do not work with cats, unless it suits them to accept, needless to say.
Tim was most frustrated at being trapped by Covid and the moment restrictions were lifted, he was off.
Twice now to Iceland and twice to France.
He has cat-sitters on speed dial. I would baby sit the little beast myself if I lived near. Love doesn’t have to be reciprocated.
The only sort of aviation I’m interested in these days is the feathered kind:
Of late, we have attracted quite a number of woodpeckers although with the intense cold these mornings, I worry that they will bend their beaks!
One day I noticed this little chap
He seemed unusually rotund, so me being me, I had a little worry about him.
Which served no purpose whatsoever, of course.
Perhaps he was just poofed up against the cold.
Next thing, I was worrying about a gimpy starling…
…that turned out not to be gimpy at all.
See, if there’s one thing I am really good at, it’s worrying.
It should have been my profession.
Sadly, no one would pay.
Then we both had a little worry.
Grant called me to come quick to see a Cooper’s hawk that was in a bush right outside the kitchen.
But there was a loud bang as it suddenly, for no apparent reason, flew off and straight into the window.
It wasn’t quite as alarming as when a full-grown wild turkey hit the house, but Grant went out to see if he could see the hawk and fortunately it seemed to be air-worthy. It was up a tree trying to recover its dignity.
And probably had a bad headache.