Wild Things

One Thanksgiving morning a few years ago, I saw the turkeys.
The irony was lost on them, I'm sure, but there they were in my neighbor's yard, five wild turkeys.
Over the years, I've seen a lot of them. It may not be the same family but every spring there is a mom and two or three babies. During the summer the babies, dressed all in white, follow mom closely, walking across yards and through the park, slowly picking up goodies.
By the fall, the teenage turkeys are in their adult colors; mainly shades of brown with flashes of a dull blue. They're still with mom, but much more independent. Some even fly. They don't fly far and don't fly high, mostly back and forth from rooftops. I see them on my morning walk, taking it easy along their neighborhood route.
The odd thing is that I live in a city. My neighborhood was developed almost 50 years ago. But I guess wild things have called this home for a lot more years than I have.
It's not only the turkeys. It's the skunk under the house that raises a new family every spring. And the opossums who push around the water cans in the backyard at night.
I also have two cats who don't get along. One has taken it his head that a neighbor behind me is nicer so he disappears every now and again for a few days. I now have his food and water bowls in a raised planter in my front yard, where I though it was safe. Wrong!
The skunks and the opossum may not be jumpers, but the siren call of cat chow allows stupendous acts. They don't party every night. I can tell the opossum has been because the water bowl is filled with mud. He's a digger. The skunks are more fastidious. They may leave a scent but no dirt.
It's not just my part of California that is shared with wild things. My daughter has wild jackrabbits. A cousin who lived on Twin Peaks in San Francisco always had raccoons. And friends who live in Silicon Valley disturbed their opossum when they tore out part of their deck. The little guy migrated next door where he tore holes in their neighbor's lawn looking for bugs. This is the same neighbor who had to install chicken wire over the top of the koi pond to keep the egrets from stealing the fish.
We may live in cities and suburbs but it's good to know that some of the original settlers have found ways to live with us.
I'm hoping to talk to the turkeys again this Thanksgiving.

With a little help

I'm not a complete Luddite, but some of this tech world is difficult.

I tried yesterday to link this blog to my Facebook page.

A) I'm not good at Facebook yet
b) I forgot I have two email addresses
c) I was just proud that I had both a Facebook AND a blog.

This morning, while I had my daughter on speaker phone, she spent about 30 minutes walking through, then installing, a link from here to there....

It may not have been the shortest route, but thank you my dear!

Having Paris

Susan and I went to see "Julie & Julia" a couple of nights ago. We walked in after the previews and ads started so the auditorium was too dark to see our fellow audience members, but judging from the laughter, most were women and probably middle-aged.

We laughed at all the appropriate parts and roared at the Saturday Night Live skit (probably because we remembered it from the original).

What we both moaned about most was Paris. Susan lived and worked as a young adult in Belgium and Germany but I've only traveled, a month or two at a time, and am in love with Paris.

A few years ago, as my mother's health was declining, I asked her to choose a city to visit. She had gotten her first passport for a Caribbean cruise with one of my sisters, but no one had ever looked at it. I told her it was illegal to die without using her passport.

I expected her to choose London. She had English friends and an undergraduate degree in English Lit.

She choose Paris. So off we went--my mother, my grown daughter and I-- for 10 days in Paris.
We did all the predictable things; the Eiffel Tower, Montmartre Steps, Seine boat, the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, some glorious meals and several soaked walks (it was November). She was entranced with the city and said it reminded her of San Francisco. She was born and raised in San Francisco and her parents, although not married at the time, had both gone through the earthquake and fire.

But what I will always remember was her comment while sitting in the Tuileries Garden on a rare sunny afternoon. The Louvre had free admission that day and French families were there in droves. My 85-year-old mother looked around at the French and said, "I think I'm in love."

My mother died in January 2o08 but we'll always have Paris.

Here's to you Mother and to Julia, with all my love.