Spring, Summer, and Autumn I keep my windows open at night. In the morning, I sit in an easy chair at the front of the house near the open windows and read-journal-read before I start my day.

That’s when I’ve heard the owl.

And, during the day, the crows, who fight over whatever I’ve put in the compost.

The other day in the early morning, I heard a bird that I didn’t recognize so I recorded it with my phone on the window sill, and then asked a birder I know at work to listen and identify it for me. It was a red-bellied woodpecker — which, may I point out, does NOT have a terribly red belly.

One of my co-workers suggested I get the Merlin app which would have done the identifying for me.

“I’d rather ask a person,” I said, in part because of the delightful bird conversation that followed the identification.

We’re fighting a battle, don’t you think, where people are being replaced by technology. Self-checkout at the grocery store. Robo-calls and now robo-texts. Apps for everything.

Meh- this isn’t where I wanted to go with this.

The Stream-of-Consciousness prompt this week is “run” and when I started to write, I wanted to tell you about the sound a runner makes when he runs past the house. I heard it this morning.

pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat.

It’s like a metronome, constant and rhythmic. I can hear him come up the hill, getting louder and louder. Once he passes, the sound fades until he’s over the crest.

Newer runners slow as they come up the hill. It’s a steady grade and exhausting.

When there are runners, cars slow down (usually).

If I hear a car slow down and don’t hear a runner, I peek out my window to see what’s happening. Usually it’s a cyclist or a deer.

The ones that drive me crazy are the cars that don’t slow down for anything.

I’m pretty sure they are all from New Jersey.

One of my co-workers was lacing up her shoes for a “little run” the other morning. “How far do you usually run?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Since the Boilermaker [a local 15K race that happens every July], I only run three to five miles a day,” she said, and shrugged.

Mind you, I haven’t run anything even close to a mile since high school. If I did it then, it was because we had to.

I’ve tried running every now and then, but it hurts, so I quickly give up. Something about running is so pounding and jarring that makes it not feel good at all. Maybe I’m not doing it right.

Plus, I’m a fast walker. I have overtaken runners while I walk. I walk nearly every day.

Mostly I consider myself a swimmer, even though I don’t get in the water as much as I would like. Swimming feels natural and at home. I get lost in thoughts. I stretch and rotate and breathe.

As I go up and down the lane, I think, think, think — about things I’ve read, or heard said, or the sounds I heard as I sat in my chair earlier in the morning.

Like an owl or a red-bellied woodpecker or a runner’s footfalls.

Saturday has become my favorite day for blogging. Last week, one of my readers told me that reading the Saturday post was “like we were sitting together having a chat and a cuppa.” That’s such a huge compliment!

On Saturdays I’ve given myself permission to blather using the Stream of Consciousness prompt given by Linda Hill. This week that prompt is: sink/sank/sunk

So let me update you on my kitchen sink. I called the plumber a few months ago. He came. He saw. He fixed. Sort of. A slow drip still exists. It’s not leaking behind or under the sink. It’s just drip…………………….drip………………………….dripping. Should I call the plumber again? Let’s just say it isn’t annoying enough for me to do that. Yet.

My heart sank one day at work this week when I learned of a mistake I had made. It wasn’t a clerical error or something that involved money or something silly like that. It involved feelings. I had hurt someone’s feelings in a terrible way. I apologized — twice — but the damage is done. As unfeeling as some people may think I am — I mean, I DO operate in a logic brain most of the time, and hold my feelings pretty close to me — I also care INTENSELY about feelings.

AND, as unfeeling as some people may think I am, on this occasion, I turned to a co-worker and literally cried on her shoulder. When I first went to her office and started crying, she said, “I can’t tell if you are kidding or if these are real tears.” I don’t think she had seen me cry before.

I assured her the tears were real.

After about half an hour of listening to me, she grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s take a walk outside.”

It’s amazing what fresh air and sunshine can do for the soul — especially the hurting soul.

While I was apologizing to the person I had hurt, she said to me, “I don’t even want to come to work anymore.”

Same, sister, same.

But I have a co-worker who has my back. She understands what happened and why. That’s worth a WHOLE LOT.

And I have tulips at my desk at work.

So when I walk through the door going through the sink-sank-sunk emotions of I-don’t-want-to-be-here, I see the tulips and they lift my heart.