I Am A Duck Whisperer
Didn’t even know it until I had something to say
Yesterday was one of those days you say fuckit I’m not going to do anything.
It was a pretty ordinary February day which means cold and snowy around here and lately the ground’s been frozen into a deadly terrain you need George Jetson to get you out of or a third leg would come in handy although Daisy’s extras don’t seem to be helping her as she clunks along the trail behind me complaining and landing on her elbows.
While I do the splits
You're a dog I say, you should just go run in the snow like all the other dogs but she’s not convinced she is a dog and gives me her side-eye bullshit look and then goes down on an elbow again and I’m pretty sure she’s part parrot because she said fuck when her chin landed on the ice just like I do and I think there was a snide remark about maybe I should start acting like all the other people.
Anyway yesterday I thought I’d clean up but the feeling passed before I even started. I tried to read but my eyes kept going out the window so I just fed the fire and myself, considered adding Baileys to everything, and I even started writing a letter, long hand, but it came out looking like I’d knitted it, you know, all messy and stringy and I didn’t feel like talking anyway.
But then something shifted and I suddenly wanted to be in it
So full snow gear later I went out and started walking down the big hill to the lake and it’s a long steep walk so the lake takes like two thirds of the screen and if you just go to the lake rather than down to the lake you miss the gorgeous shifting layers of colour. It was cold. Day before much warmer. Iffy ice. Three boats in the harbour where the ice is thick but broken. Couldn't spot the rink. For the first time I saw people inside the boats and was happy for them because it looked like a nice golden kitchen party.
Thought I saw a dead goose but it was a forgotten goalie pad.
I walked through coniferous forests where the ground was ground and through snow three feet deep and when I got to the lighthouse I was warm and happy and there was one little duck hurtling around in the waves like he was the only one kept his word and then a huge rectangle of ice floated from the harbour, slowly with swing, edging itself into the lake proper.
The rink.
