In springtime, birds build nests and boy seeks girl
NEWSCOTLAND — It’s the 24th day of March, and now anticipating the lengthening days until the Summer Solstice, here we are gathered at the Windowbox Café in Slingerlands, in bright sunshine, around the corner from the former Bender Melon Farm, which was so embroiled in controversy for years due to impending and conflicting choices between developers and those who wanted to preserve some of the open spaces we still have.
A compromise was reached apparently without bloodshed, further characterization left for the better informed. Bob and wait crew, Melissa and Trish, greeted us with coffee and breakfast in their usual hospitable and capable manner. Not to encourage competition between our Tuesday morning hosts, but the corned-beef hash did get pretty rave reviews today.
Recalling past days, our predecessors left us with their memories of long-gone hotels, and stagecoach stops, staffed with teams of horses to be swapped out every few hours or 15 miles to keep the coaches moving. These hotels and coach stops are documented by historical markers in the Hilltowns to jog our fading memories of what our elders shared with us.
In springtime …
It has been noted that the birds are back from more hospitable winter climes and making quite an effort to select appropriate housing to raise their young. Bluebirds are the real prize we are hoping to see and to house, but all are welcome, even the scrappy ones, mirroring our acceptance of each other here at the Windowbox this morning.
Somebody’s son is supposedly on the hunt (maybe too strong a word) for a girlfriend. The somebody may be more hopeful and invested in the quest than the son, but the advice from the experience of the OMOTM is to approach it like deer hunting (again that word hunt) and go out every day.
We should someday pool our experiences and see what attitudes and approaches result in success. Maybe the spouses would like to weigh in on this one.
Longevity
Recognizing that the numbers of our remaining years are beginning to wane, and in an effort to leave less of a mess behind us, we consider thinning out our assets. How many of this and that do we really need.
Granted, a choice of boats and suitable outboard motors might be necessary for an expedition, fishing, sightseeing, etc. Also, do we want to be limited to only one motorcycle if we are yet so bold?
And a tractor for each implement seems reasonable. And tools, toolboxes, nuts and bolts, it’s hard to know what is required for the next challenge. The problem is starting to become apparent.
A possible measure of our anticipated longevity has been said to be the number and variety of medications in our repertoire. The less, the better perhaps.
But on the contrary, there may be an opposite correlation to the strength of the economy, that is, the more, the better. And, of course, we appreciate the opportunity to do our part, depending on the quality of our insurance coverage, the better, the better in this case.
One of our elders was said to have his morale boosted and possibly his life extended by a wonderful view out the window of his convalescent quarters of a swimming pool populated by young people and even an occasional bikini.
Refreshment
And speaking of vivid images, our memories of Hurricane Irene rearing her high waters came up in discussion of the aftermath, repairs, surviving businesses, and especially the Glass Bar on Main Street in Schoharie, for remaining open in those hard times, where some OMOTM sought refuge from hard work in wet and muddy conditions, and being greeted with free beverages in a generous and serve-yourself atmosphere.
And moving on from generosity with refreshments, many of us seem to be at war with the squirrels who fight valiantly and without pity or remorse, to dominate our bird feeders. Neither electric shocks nor hoods nor netting seem adequate deterrents to these hungry determined furry contentious interlopers.
Where did they bury the acorns last fall? What does that matter when we have so hopefully stocked our bird (not squirrel) feeders.
God willing and the creek (or creeks) don’t rise, we anticipate our next adventures, but this saying brought up the question of creek, either as a reference to flooded waterways or to the Creek Indian tribe rebelling, which (credit to Google) is most commonly attributed to Benjamin Hawkins (1754–1816), a U.S. Senator and agent for Indian Affairs in the South. And finally we know everything!
Scuppering
The word “scuppering” was seen in the news and cried out for use in this column. Hence the statement that at last the snow and ice, which has engulfed us now for months, is scuppering in the face of warming temperatures and more direct sunshine.
And, clinging to life and hope and comradery and not scuppering in complicated times this Tuesday morning, about a quarter of the way into the year, were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Frank A. Fuss, Will Lichliter, Ed Goff, Roland G. Tozer, Rich Albertin, Pastor Jay Francis, Al Schager, Robert Schanz, Jake Herzog, Dave Hodgetts, Ken Miller, Bob Donnelly, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jazz, Allan DeFazio, John Dab, Paul Guiton, and me.