June 10, 2006
Each morning, at breakfast, we measure out our “meds” into little crystal saltcellars that accompany us to the table. There, between the fruit and the cereal, we begin to swallow the heavy-duty prescription pills, the vitamin supplements and the other items purported to improve our skin, joints, memories, and general well being. My brother says that his pills are of such volume that he has two breakfasts, and I recall entering a doctor’s office where the request was to bring the medications one was presently taking and seeing a woman with a large plastic bag full to the brim. At the time I felt a little smug about my small collection, but now I am beginning to think that soon I will need two “pill pots” to start my day. Since I am convinced that my contemporaries are also consuming great stacks of medications, all quietly and without comment, it doesn’t bother me greatly.
Our summer birds that have come to this place to rear their families are suddenly hitting the feeders with a vengeance. Today, we watched two red-winged blackbirds frenetically grabbing up seeds and carrying them to four fledges lined up in a row on the top of the arbor on the west side of the lawn. The fledges were all wide open beaks, flittering wings, and instant squawks as soon as the parent birds turned around to get more food. There is always a recalling of our own experiences of early parenthood in the sight of this, and we smile. I don’t know whether birds ever are left off the hook on this one, where they can one day just sit on the line and say, “We’re glad that’s over with. . .” I suspect they are compelled to reenact this force of nature year after year until they expire.