Sunday, October 21, 2007

Dead or Dying

It's fall in New England.

It is a beautiful time of year. The trees are full with their last blast of color before they go peacefully into their winter sleep. It is one of the most beautiful times of year.

When I was in high school I was lucky enough to be a part of a group of students who made a trip from Orlando to Salem, Concord and a few other points of Transcendentalist interest. The trip changed my life. I realized there was so much more to this country than Orlando had to offer, and by changing my location I could change my view. I made the trip at the beginning of my senior year and I remember it as one of the pivotal points in my life.

Flash forward 10 years, and on a whim I decided to get in touch with the teachers who made the trip possible. They were making their 10th trip this year with a whole new round of seniors, and a former classmate and I made the drive. It was a fantastic weekend. A weekend full of old friends and mentors, fall foliage, wonderful old graves, Walden Pond, and a little clarity about my life.

As Henry David Said:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life and see if I could not learn what they had to teach; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." - Walden.

As I was walking around Walden Pond I found myself asking 'what would Henry think about Walden now?' I don't know, but I think he would be happy he was able to provide a little clarity to a chick who has visited his pond a couple of times.

The Grave of a 99 year old woman. Appropriately, it was one of the most well preserved markers in the whole cemetery.

This is one of my favorite grave markers. No name, no story. Simply put- At Rest. Speaking of- the little bird did die. Bummer.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

The Audobon Society

I work at a theatre. In this particular theatre there are many windows. Generally I like windows. Sometimes I hate them. This week I hate them.

Our new costume apprentice bounded out of my crafty shop the other day with a rather surprised look on her face. She wanted to know if I have a pet bird. I should at this moment known it wouldn't end well. No. No pet bird. Long story short, the day ended with a teeny tiny little bird flying into a window looking for freedom and ending up in a shoe box being driven to a wild bird rescue.

It seems a bit ironic. I am a professional milliner. I dig through boxes looking for colorful dead vinage birds to put on hats. I was totally distraught. I drove a half-dead bird halfway across Connecticut to get it to a wild bird rescue. I'm now waiting to get a letter from the nice bird lady to tell me if he made it or not. Based on the look on her face I'm guessing the little bird didn't make it.

Is it totally wrong to ask for the carcass to put on a hat?