The Slow Yearly

The almanac tells me that today was National Dog Day. Our trio did seem to have an extra degree of strut in their collective gait, come to think of it. Bluebelle smiled at us this evening, her front  teeth in a perfect circle. We had just called her off of Jinx, whose throat she was biting with unsettling gusto. And Jinx was pleased though nonplussed when I sang to him at the end of day. I sing a tune to him called The Jinx Song, lyrics improvised each time, to the tune of the old Oscar Mayer baloney jingle. The spotted feller’s pleasure probably sprang from the fact that this is the first time I have ever sang the song without it ending in the word “gay.”

The almanac also tells me that today is the beginning of the hummingbirds’ annual migration to the southlands. As is my custom, I will keep the feeders full and fresh until the first frost, just in case any stragglers come through. Their trip is sure, but I think some of them are slow in starting out.  I will miss my little friends when they are gone. Perhaps they will miss this little farm.

We underestimate all living things, bird and brook and bush and beech and berm. This I know.

~ S.K. Orr