Viewpoint. . . . . hot and cold!

I'm useless when it comes to taking selfies. 
Perhaps having my phone in a leather case makes it more difficult. 
But I love my case, especially when I drop my phone!  
Anyway, I really dislike photos of myself at this age so don't take many,
 plus I usually dodge other people coming at me with a camera.

These I took on Monday killing time whilst waiting for a salesman to arrive
 to talk about replacing our HVAC system. Our house, built in 1985, is aging
 too and things need to be updated. One comes to a point where a quick fix
 is no longer going to work. Heat breaking down on a freezing winter 
day + air conditioning dying during a heatwave = stress and discomfort.
Like most people in this modern age, we've been spoiled. Technology
has, with all its faults, at least made daily living in whatever climate 
ones inhabits, much more comfortable when regulation of the temperature
is possible.

So three salesman have come this week, all very nice and very different.
 Several estimates for this big, costly job are needed, mostly just out of curiosity
 as to the differences in cost for the same job and equipment, and of course
 the guaranteed work of the company and its installers. We've heard horror
 stories from people being ripped off in many ways with pricing and poor
 workmanship when it comes to these types of home improvements.

We did our homework ahead of time.
Hopefully we'll find the best company with a fair price and can get moving
 with the work whilst the weather, and the attic, stay cool.
A mess ahead? Of course! Spring cleaning may be put on hold!

Wild beauty---------------------

Our large fig tree, and the bird bath beneath its now budding branches, is a haven

for so many garden visitors. Squirrels chase one another through the branches and

eat at the suet feeder (the seed feeder being squirrel-proof - they know it by now

 so rarely try!). A herd of white-tailed deer, despite their silent loveliness standing

 on the lawn at dusk and dawn, now come at night. They are unwelcome visitors

 at the feeders, and now are chewing on the bright green shield-shaped leaves

 of the bluebell clumps pushing up under the tree.  

Yesterday, under chilly, overcast skies, and prior to a nice light rain falling to

 water the garden, I took these photos of just a few of the many birds visiting.

All but a pair of Brown-headed cowbirds, and a pair of European starlings, are

birds which frequent the garden constantly - but I never tire of trying to get a

 perfect photo showing off their beautiful colors, feathers and expressions.

Female Northern flicker 

Male Eastern bluebird 

Male Brown-headed cowbird

Female Northern cardinal

Male Northern cardinal

Male or Female European starling 

Male House finch

Female American robin

Hope you enjoy 'my birds'.

Who's flying in your garden these days?

Are you waking to birdsong now that spring is here?

I'll spin you a tale . . . . . . . . . .

Waiting tables and the Quiet American. . . . . . . . . . 

She was busy taking orders, placing them with the kitchen, carrying trays piled with plates, and her feet hurt. Working two jobs was hard going but when you're eighteen you should be able to do it. Youth, good health, boundless energy, and of course your dreams, are all on your side. She had worked on Saturdays in a dairy shop on the main street while in secretarial college. She loved that job as many tourists popped in to order the real Devon Clotted Cream to mail back home to family and friends. She enjoyed hearing where they were from and why they had picked the west country for their holiday. She longed to see the world for herself. For a short time she served in a small tea room on Sunday afternoons. There she had to dress like a real waitress in a black dress, stockings with the required 'sensible shoes', and a white frilly apron, the clientele were often uppity and the tips not great.  She even served 'American' hot dogs from a tiny 'hole in the wall' on the harbor for a few weekends, and hated riding home on the bus her clothes and hair smelling of grease. She needed the money to follow her dream.

Anstey's Cove, Torquay, Devon - Painted for me many years ago from a post card by a friend in Maine.

Her last job waiting tables was in a small restaurant near the top of the main street. Away from the busy seafront and beaches, but popular with holidaymakers staying in nearby large hotels. She recalls him well. Tall, slim, with an American accent. He ordered the big plate of spaghetti with meatballs. She told him waitressing was not her real job, she worked as a shorthand-typist in the office of an insurance company down by the harbor. She was making plans to go to Washington, D.C. to work for a year then come back with money and marry her boyfriend. He smiled, wished her luck, told her she'd enjoy working in America. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and tucked a ten pound note into her hand as he left the restaurant. It was the biggest tip she ever received.

The beginning of a short story?  

Perhaps an entire book?  

Or one of many memoirs for family in the years ahead when

 she is no longer here to share oral history. . . . . . 

Now and then I hope to bring you more memoirs of growing up
in Devon, England during the 1940's, '50's and early 60's before I emigrated 
to the USA