He was at it again yesterday morning, that red-breasted robin, pecking away at the sunroom window. Because the house is L-shaped, I could get a good view from a kitchen window. He flies from a nearby fencepost about five feet away, gets a good peck in, and returns to the fencepost and does it again without resting. He'll do this a good dozen times. Whenever I see him, I go into the sunroom and he flies away. Now about four panes of the bay window in the sunroom are scored with gray marks from his beak.
What does he want? I've heard that birds sometimes attack their own reflections, so perhaps he's threatened by himself. He only does this in the morning before about eight, so maybe that's when the reflection is strongest. He is persistent, and never seems to hurt himself or the window.
All right, enough about the robin. Here's what happened to me last week. The high-school-age attendant at the local bowling alley, upon my ordering another game with Jack, asked me if I wanted a senior discount. It took them a while to peel me off the ceiling. But since then I have:
-jumped on a trampoline with the boys, giggling the whole time
-discovered Weyerbacher Simcoe Double IPA
-bicycled for miles around the local state park, pulling Will behind me (on that bike extension thing that seems to have no name)
-tasted honeysuckle gelato
So despite a young man at Sproul Lanes hurling cruel barbs at my unsuspecting, silver-haired, matronly, OLD OLD OLD self, things are definitely looking up.