Rosemary Kirstein

… while I was writing on the porch.

I didn’t notice him at first. I felt this little tickle at the top edge of my right shoe, and I looked down…

Flitt, flutt and off he went.

He had been doing something with my shoelace. (Before you say “He thought it was a worm”, I’ll say that I’m pretty sure that chickadees don’t actually eat worms.)

I suspect it’s the same little guy who regularly comes to the porch, regardless of whether or not there’s anyone out there. As long as you’re not actually wielding a shovel and yelling (a thing I do rarely), and there’s food in the bird-feeder in the garden, he’s likely to show up.

I’ve watched him with a sunflower seed in his beak, testing out cracks in the woodwork. When he finds a good one, he’ll stuff the seed in there, and tap away at it until it opens.

This post in lieu of me telling you about what I’m writing, because I tend not to talk about what I’m writing until I’m done writing it.