Comfort

Dog hair is a fact of my life. Long white dog hair, courtesy of my trusty pup, Eloise. It is in my carpet and in my purse, in my closet and occasionally in my refrigerator. I am used to it. The people around me are used to it and graciously pick the strays off of me when they spot them. I do what I can to get rid of it, but she always makes more. Always.

I try to brush her every day and she gladly gives up mounds of the lovely white fluff. I have made paper from it and used it to stuff her bed. Several weeks ago, I put a big poof of her hair out on the porch. Within a few minutes, the robin who lives at my house grabbed a big bunch and flew off. Two other birds joined her and they all made several more trips until they had taken the whole lot. I didn't think that much about it after that and headed off to work.

In the last few days the air around my back porch has been punctuated by the sweet noise of baby birds calling for food. Lots and lots of baby birds.

This morning as I was putting my tender young tomato plants on the porch for the day, I saw our robin. She had a long white hair stuck to her tail. I heard the call of her babies and I knew that somewhere in the eaves of my house, a few naked baby robins sit cozy in a big tuft of white hair.

Life is good.

It's got MAILABILITY!

One Spring morning a long time ago when my mother was returning to the house after her daily walk to get the mail and the neighborhood gossip, the phone rang. It was the local Post Mistress. Her message was simple, barely audible over the shrieks of the other postal workers.

"Mrs. Mead, you must come here immediately. Your parcel has chewed its way out of the box and it's running around terrorizing our customers and staff." Then the line went dead. She tried calling back, but the phone rang busy.

A lesser woman would be intimidated by such a call, but not my mother. She'd have been the type to stand up during a bank robbery, cigarette in hand, and ask for a light.

She put on a nice dress and her red lipstick. She hopped into the Dodge Polaris and drove into town to see what all the fuss was about. When she got to the post office, there were a number of people standing out front trying to see through the plate glass window. She honked to move them out of the way and then backed into the parking space. She opened the trunk, just in case, then she lit a cigarette and headed in.

Pushing through the crowd, she took a peek through the glass before opening the door to find three postal employees and two customers standing on the counter. The phone was lying on the floor.

"It's over there." said the post mistress, gesturing to a spot behind the counter. There it was a 16 inch baby alligator. My mother walked over to it. It backed up a little and made a threatening noise. Then the she took a big drag of her Salem, leaned over and blew smoke into its face, disorienting it for a moment while she picked it up with both hands.

"Can you get the door?" she called to the folks just climbing down from the counter. "And bring the box, please."

She marched out and put the baby gator into the trunk of the car and closed it. The post mistress handed her the box. The return address was chewed away all except for the zip code 34747.

"Where is 34747?"she asked as she was getting into the car.

"Florida... Kissimmee, Florida." said the post mistress.

"Thank you." said my mother as she drove away.

She loved a good mystery and was determined to get to the bottom of this one. She used the smoke trick to get the baby gator back out of the trunk and into the bathtub. She spent the afternoon feeding him chunks of raw ground meat and planning her investigation.

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The U.S. Postal Requirements for Live Animal Mailability

http://pe.usps.com/text/pub52/pub52c5_007.htm

Specific Requirements by Animal:
Baby Alligators Baby Caimans Chameleons Frogs Lizards Newts Reptiles and Amphibians Salamanders Tadpoles and Toads	Animals must not exceed 20 inches in length. No additional requirements, except the applicable standards in DMM 601.9. Packaging must comply with DMM 601.9.3.11.

Sprung!

Spring is here. I have it on good authority. Not the conventional good authority like groundhogs, daffodils or seeing the first robin that some folks like to follow. Real authority.

This morning as I walked with Eloise, I was delighted to see that the plastic snowman at the tree house is now sporting a pair of glittery bunny ears and the tree is covered with pastel eggs lights and fuzzy chicks. As I turned the corner on 9th Street, I spied a red pickup truck filled with giant snow snowflakes. It was leaving town.

You can't really argue with that kind of evidence.

Happy Spring!

A Hint of Green

This time of year in the west of Ireland, there appears a shade of green that is present at no other time and, I'd like to think, at no other no other place in the world. It shows up at the moment when the winds are high and the sea grows wild and fierce, fighting with the land for the control of the season.

It appears, not so much as a colour but as the intention of a colour, overlaying all the trees and hedge rows. The hint of green. Pale green. Transparent, opalescent, tender, baby green. It is barely discernible in the last long gray of Winter but it is there if you look. It holds the promise of things to come.

This morning as I was walking the dog past the tree house, I saw that the Christmas tree was now decorated with shamrock bulbs as I had hoped. The plastic snowman's little red beret was gone and his white bulb was replaced with a green one. Bright green, Kelly green. A green that I'd like to think appears at no other place and time. It is there if you look, cutting through the daylight savings time darkness and offering the promise of things to come.