Thinking about flight
This morning's peek at the baby finches. They scrunched down into themselves when I came outside (and glared, as I think you can see); earlier, a couple of them were perched on the edge of the nest and giving their wings an experimental flap or two. It seems Flappers 1 & 2 were mainly trying to keep balance while perched. Female Adult bird fed them all while I watched from inside--she doesn't seem to mind that the babies are nearly as big as her. The babies all stand up and stick out their open beaks and she gets around to giving each of them something.
Neuro is down to the last three lectures, now. We'd been on a good roll, staying current with the syllabus, but we're a little behind again, and for the final lecture we have four chapters of reading assigned and are apparently going to cover (in depth!) emotional systems, mental illness, neuroendocrine interactions, the neural linkage between physical pain and emotional pain, the whole autonomic nervous system--is it me, or are we perhaps not going to get to quite all of this? It's nearly time for us all to flutter off and take the final exam. I'm sorry to see it end. The prof was a bit wistful in lecture, too.
It's a beautiful day out, at last. Some of the tomatoes I planted are ready, and I've eaten my first tomatillo - yum! We also have a couple of small eggplant - I can't remember if what I planted was a dwarf variety, but the little purple things, they are small wee beasties. Youngest child still endlessly amused that there is such a thing as an "egg plant." Hilarity all around.
Growth just happens, whether anyone is paying attention or not. Mostly, I'm not. But now and again, I stop and notice: you flirted with that guy; you are euphoric about molecular structure; the tears aren't daily. The night after I took my midterm was the first good night's sleep I'd had since Sept. 13. Re-learning old things, learning new ones, and ever so tentatively, in the middle of it, perhaps, for a moment, thinking about where I might be going.
Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Not sure why those words seem to fit right now, but they do. Google also turned up this:
Sufficient Unto The Day
By Percy Bysshe Shelley
Is not to-day enough? Why do I peer
Into the darkness of the day to come?
Is not to-morrow even as yesterday?
And will the day that follows change thy doom?
Few flowers grow upon thy wintry way;
And who waits for thee in that cheerless home
Whence thou hast fled, whither thou must return
Charged with the load that makes thee faint and mourn?