Les Pigeons

I have been working form the country all week. "Normally" I would set up my work computers in the larger stone-coved living room. However, it is winter and hard to keep that room heated. So instead, I set up camp in the kitchen which looks out into the garden. Besides, that keeps myself and fresh cups of coffee within arms length. Dangerous, yet convenient.

I have noticed that everyday around 1pm, a colorful assortment of pigeons visit my garden and root around my gout de lait, aka pierced snow, flowers. Every time they descend onto my garden I find myself getting up from my computer and going to the window to spy, and if the truth be told, talk to them.

I realize that this is a very common event, And from some perspectives, a bit "crazy-old-country-lady-ish". I am certain that if I told the boys that this was a daily highlight for me, they would prohibit me from spending weekdays in the country. What would really send them over the edge is to learn that sometimes I try and take photos of the cuter pigeons, in my own twisted version of Hot or Not.

Today, as I was photographing the "hotter" pigeons,  it occurred to me that one day I will look back on the days when I watched the pigeons from my French country house's kitchen window, with fondness and nostalgia.

What is one man's "bat shit crazy" is another man's "appreciating the present moment" loveliness.

When I am a little old lady, I am pretty sure that daily events like these will be one of the things that I wax poetic about. Why not start now?

So, how did you spend your Valentine's Day? Geesh.