frittering ovenbird In cleaning out my freezer I found a bag of Brazil nuts that no one will ever eat. I wondered if Brazil nuts would make a more enticing snack for backyard visitors than peanuts (see: absolved) so I set half a dozen on the fence and came inside to watch from the window. A song sparrow turned up right away, with bright eyes far bigger than its stomach. It made off with two Brazil nuts, each the size of its own head, then came back for the rest. Frustrated with its inability to swallow them whole, the sparrow has now taken to knocking them off the fence into the garden where I’m hoping something else will find them before they rot. I’ve been taking pictures through the window with my 600 mm telephoto lens, which I imagine makes me look like a deranged creeper. I’m hoping none of my neighbours have noticed, though I’m not particularly worried about what they think of me since none have ever offered friendship beyond a cursory wave. I feel guilty, sometimes, about the way I “waste” my day. Here I am staring out the window when I should be doing something more objectively productive, like folding the mountain of laundry or washing the floors. But there’s no real satisfaction in checking those things off a to-do list. The laundry just piles up again, the floor gets dirty as soon as the kids arrive home from school. What would I rather have anyway, a clean kitchen or a moment of true peace? I choose the latter. I can clean later when the house is noisy and the day is dark. For now I keep an eye on the single Brazil nut the sparrow failed to take. And it must have heard my thoughts because it returns, a small brown ping pong ball, greedy and curious, knocking the last nut into the garden. I could have cleaned my bathrooms in the hour that has passed. Instead I watch a sweet little life disappear through a gap in the fence with a Brazil nut in its beak. 260121 what's it to you? who go blather from