After receiving my second Covid booster yesterday, we went off once more to Greenwich, passing the horses and other creatures I always call out to.
The horse pasture is adjacent to a barn that is in advanced stages of falling down. Sadly, just one of the hundreds we see.
Grant muttered about my decision to get the vaccine. He accepted the first two and one booster, after which he decided enough was enough.
“Where will it end?” he asked, “Four, five, how many boosters will there be? I’m not putting any more of that stuff in my body!”
If I was his age perhaps I would feel the same but at my stage of life I don’t see a need to worry.
Is it any different to the ‘flu vaccines that we get every year? “Yeah. Well I don’t get them either!” says the man.
Friends of mine had the vaccine recently, which is in fact the only reason I knew it was available. They both felt very fatigued and out-of-sorts for a day or two, so I was prepared for the possibility myself.
24 hours later, I am no better or worse than usual.
My fingers continue to let me down, however. The right letters get pushed, but more and more frequently in the wrong order.
Blaming the keyboard, I obtained a new one, It hasn’t helped a bit. Dyslexic fingers, for sure.
Paired with a computer system that tries to guess what word I intend and boldly corrects me, it makes for a bit of nonsense.
When we arrived at Hannaford’s, I declined the pleasure of pushing a shopping cart around and instead entered into a communion with this posh chap.
Robins are less nervous than most other birds and this one was sitting on the grass divider where Grant parked.
As always I “spoke” to it and the bird stopped poking about and lifted its head.
It’s most unlikely, I know, but it was as if the robin was interested. Its eyes seemed to meet my own and he hopped down the bank toward me as I sat in the car.
My camera timed our “conversation” at five minutes.
It’s a long time since I had the delight of a bird sitting on my finger, or feeding from my hand, but as anyone knows, who reads my blog, I am forever trying to photograph them:
There is a red-breasted one as well but I have not caught sight of it for some time. It’s also beautiful.
Aren’t all birds?
On April 6th, I spotted this chap.
“Really?” he said. “In mid-moult?”
He got a bit fluffy about it. Pls excuse poor focus.
A couple of days ago, he was back with some friends.
A lovely splash of colour in the just-budding bushes..
But somebody was still moulting:
“It’s the best I can do in all this wind!”
Goldfinches. Such jolly little birds.
Then there’s these chaps:
Grackles are very handsome and I think they know it.
When we got back from Greenwich, there was a little face in the window.
“Oh, that’s relief. I thought lunch would be late again.”