Cory and I just got back from a long trip out East. I meant to hop in occasionally and relay some updates but ended up being too busy exploring and having the best time.
I fully intend to recap, but for now I just want to say a precious few words about the last stop on our trip: Boston.
We were there on Marathon Monday. We were staying just 3 blocks south of the blast site. We were supposed to be out being touristy and exploring the Boston Public Library and Copley Square but laziness overtook us and we put that off in favor of an afternoon nap. We woke up to sirens and helicopter blades and texts from loved ones frantic for news on our condition and a city reeling from the news of such a gruesome attack. But we woke up safe.
Any number of things could have been different and put us in a position of danger. We were just flat out lucky to have things turn out as they did.
That afternoon were able to walk the city and see the responders and guards and citizens come together and help. We saw strangers give one another rides when the transit systems were suspended. We saw Bostonians and out-of-towners alike deliver coffee and snacks to the men and women who stood for hours and hours to protect the scene. We witnessed a bruised and battered city unite.
Cory and I have been in two cities where unspeakable tragedies have occurred recently and more than anything I think it has showed us that while terrible, awful things happen, while some turn on their fellow man for unexplainable reasons; for the most part, people are good, people are helpers, and people love one another. It’s these people I think of when I need to answer the question, “Why?”
Cory and I like to have a little garden in the summer. We aren’t excellent at it, and every year we try at least one new plant that we can’t figure out how to keep alive (cantaloupe, I’m looking at you), but there is something nice and simple about growing your own food.
This year we decided to start a bunch of plants from seed to try something new and save a bit of money. We planted everything in a little multi-cell starter planter. Some old seeds, some new. We didn’t really look at germination times or when things would need to be planted outside. We just buried some seeds in some dirt on a wing and a prayer.
Within 2 days a bunch of plants had sprouted. Our broccoli was going nuts in less than a week and in about 10 days the zucchini was already huge and had to be planted into a separate planter, yet our spinach has stubbornly refused to surface. We have no idea what we are doing, but it sure is fun to watch!
So, this is what my closet looks like right now. It’s a total disaster.
I’ve needed to clean it out for a while and get rid of old things and I convinced myself that if I just stopped putting things away all pretty like that eventually it would get to the point that I would be forced to clean it out just so it wouldn’t explode across the bedroom.
As you can see it has exploded across the bedroom and yet remains in this state.
I mean, if I just look away for long enough the mess will disappear and I’ll have my closet back, right?
I live in Denver, Colorado. Sure, I’m on the west side of the city and it only takes me about 30 minutes to be in true wilderness, but I would never say I lived on the edge of the wild or anything. And yet, earlier this week as I was heading back to get the laundry from the dryer I looked into the backyard and spotted this.
In case you can’t see clearly, that is a hawk killing a pigeon. I didn’t see the actual attack, but the pigeon was still alive when I glanced outside so it couldn’t have been too long after. The hawk dispensed with his prey rather quickly, but it took him a bit of time and hopping around my yard with the carcass in his talons to finally get the perfect bit of strength to fly into our neighbor’s tree with it.
It was nuts. The perfect intersection of wild and tame. A bird of nature killing the iconic city bird.
Is this considered cannibalism? Or would a hawk have to eat another hawk for cannibalism to apply?
Regardless, it was a pretty outstanding and only made me cry a little (whereas seeing an alley cat kill a squirrel in my grape vines last year made me bawl ferociously). Plus, the dogs went wild smelling each and every lingering pigeon feather for a few days afterwards.
I love this damn city.