Day Seven

We had a wonderful evening on the patio last night with our eldest son who came for dinner. We roasted veggies on the barbeque that had been marinated in pesto and olive oil, along with a few turkey sausages. The potatoes I picked from the garden ended up in a warm potato salad with browned proscuitto, french mustard, wild mushroom and sage olive oil, chopped red onion and some fresh oregano. We also had a plate of sliced tomatoes from the farmer's market, with chunks of marinated fresh mozarella and fresh basil leaves, drizzled with balsamic and olive oil. I made a fresh berry sorbet for dessert. It was wonderful. Our son stayed the night so that he could go into work first thing in the morning (needed to do some overtime) and we all got up this morning before he left and took a walk down by the river. We wanted to show him a deck built on the back of a house along the walking path which we think would be a good design for the backyard deck he is contemplating building onto his home. There were several people walking their dogs, a very loud bullfrog, the usual birds we encounter and the ones we sometimes hear but don't see.

After our walk, Bob and I headed out to Borders for our magazine perusal and when we came home I heated up the potato and leek soup I made the other day. We finished that off with a havarti cheese, brown mustard, roasted eggplant and pastrami panini (we split it). Sitting at the window having our lunch and watching the birds have theirs is always relaxing. After finishing, I got up to put my dishes away and heard a soft thud at the window and noticed a small western finch had launched itself into the window and was flapping around in the rocks under the fountain. It was wedged between the rocks and probably would have slide through the rock grate and into the holding tank below the fountain so I hurried out and gently lifted it from the trap. It was clearly stunned, chirping steadily, and breathing heavily. I held it between my cupped hands and it slowly lowered its head, resting its beak on my fingers. It was still breathing steadily but no longer chirping. So, I eased myself into a comfortable position with the bird still in my hands and watched it for several minutes while its eyes slowly closed. But, I knew it was still alive as it would blink every once in awhile. It also seemed tuned into the calls from the other birds in the yard so I just continued to hold it in my still hands. At any moment it seemed it was going to expire but continued to hold on. Its beak wasn't broken but I was fearful that the impact may have broken the neck. My husband came out and as we began to talk softly, the bird began to lift its head and became very alert. It was still lying in my hands, its body motionless, but turned its head. We were both encouraged by its movements. The next thing I knew, Bob had returned with the camera to snap a shot of nurse Jean, and the bird, hearing his footsteps in the gravel of the path, took flight into the trees. Bob was disappointed he didn't get the pic, but we were both grateful that the little finch didn't lose its life at the hands of our window. So, today was very successful and the little bird lived happily ever after. The End.