Is it work, or play?

Our neighborhood barred owl has returned and is perched on the same branch as it was a few days back. Looks like nap time now, or something close to it. Earlier today it was perched on the snow covered railing of the deck stairs. Meanwhile, woodpeckers, nuthatches, chickadees and the like continue to pile into the feeders. It’s possible that the persistent, repeated snow showers, snow storms, snow fall is making nature’s other critters as flaky as us humans. I’ve just about reached my limit of clearing the driveway every other or every third day and the continuing trend of below normal temperatures is also wearing thin. I think I’m getting a better understanding than I ever wanted of how Sisyphus felt.

napping barred owl in the oak

Photo by J. Harrington

This morning I found myself wondering, assuming someday we get repeated sunshine and the snow actually melts away, for how long will those new and different conditions make me happy. Will any euphoria last a week, two, a month? Or will I begin to take sunshine, warmth, greening, an approximation of spring, for granted after a couple of days? Trying to remember back to Christmas and birthdays when I was young, how long did the appeal of a new toy last before it became humdrum, commonplace? How is it that some toys or clothes became favorites, never boring but played with or worn, until broken, lost or worn out.

The dogs are about as fed up with snow, snow, and more snow as I am. Their run and the path to it haven’t been accessible since the end of last year. They’re no happier about feeling stuck in the house than I am so I just dug out a toy for each of them that the Better Half picked up some time ago. They’re soft vinyl squares with shallow patterns like honeycomb on one side and suction cups on the other. The patterned sides get slathered with a thin coating of peanut butter and the suction cups hold it on the kitchen floor while the dogs lick the peanut butter out/off of the combs. It’s challenging and rewarding for the dogs and they seem to be having a good time as I finish today’s posting.

Sisyphus and the Ants

By Jennifer S. Flescher

The story tells us Sisyphus is being punished.

Over and over he has to push that boulder

up and up. The mountain and God glaring.

And you, you have

your avalanche of moods.

Pills the size of stars to nearly quell

cascade and tumult.

And still you step

gravity amplified by incline, each hazard

in the way of the boulder a reminder

it should be easier. There should be

a hot fudge sundae at the top. A long nap in the shade.

The story forgot to tell us, though, Sisyphus thrived.

He learned to guide his wrists

and shoulder girdles safely to protect himself.

And later he worked to safeguard every insect

from here to the crest. Considers this his calling.

Even as the sun and the weight of time bears down.

Your strength is kingly.

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