Seven to eight shrill cries from a red-shouldered hawk are followed by the barks of dozens of crows, landing like ornaments high atop a tree. The once-hidden hawk circles overhead, its whistle-like screams filling the air, and I find it hard to discern who’s chasing whom. I no longer need the Merlin bird song-identifying app as a guide; each past check-in has confirmed that I’ve mastered the hawk’s call.
Now, all is quiet, save for the occasional gurgle from the base of the downspout by the screened-in porch.
“So, how are you liking the family compound life?” Maria’s text came after her daughter, along with her brother’s two daughters, visited for a time of chess, Nintendo Switch, and train track building. Everyone lives close by, so walking, biking, and golf carts brought them to and from their respective homes.
I’m quite enjoying the balance between communal and independent living. Take earlier, for example, when I had a couple of hours to binge-watch mindless TV while Dave and Evelyn visited next door, sawing wood. A few hours later, we had a house full of activity—two girls running on top of the 12-foot-tall dirt mounds from the pool excavation, one of them sorely losing to me at chess, and everyone hanging out on the patio. It’s the perfect blend of togetherness and solitude.
The pile of cardboard boxes in the garage is starting to take up as much space as another car. All but four boxes from yesterday’s dining room table and chair delivery are there—the remaining ones have been transformed into makeshift forts full of stuffed animals, blankets, and pillows. Oh, to be young again.
If I ever express regret about having a screened-in porch, please remind me to reconsider. I’m sitting here now, and even with the fan light on, the bugs aren’t a bother. After witnessing the insect convention at the front porch light the other night, I can only imagine what might have been if the porch hadn’t been screened. My only small regret is the slight barrier between me and nature—the screen adds a subtle distortion, like squinting and raising a blurry curtain. It’s a small thing, but noticeable.
I’ve added a fern on a plant stand out here and plan to incorporate a rug. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of asking for feedback from a Facebook design group on four rug choices I AI-generated under the table. I kid you not—hundreds of people weighed in, and their feedback was so overwhelming that I’m now unsure what to do. Some said the rugs were “too busy,” others suggested I get new chairs (which I just bought), or even replace the brand-new fan. I asked for rug feedback and got a flood of advice that I wasn’t prepared for.
Even after all the suggestions, I’m at a standstill. One late suggestion—a basic brownish tweed rug—has caught my attention, as it wouldn’t show dirt and would let the cool retro reddish-orange chairs take center stage. I’ll check it out on Rugs.com after this.
Well, that’s all from me tonight. I hope the remainder of your weekend is lovely.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 