So I was pondering while laying in bed during the gloaming illuminating the fiery leaves of the choke cherry tree outside my bedroom window. (Couldn't properly call it a sunrise, more of a lightening from deepest dark into lighter and lighter shades of gloom. We had severe hailstorms on Monday ushering temps nearly in the 80s and rain in the 60s/70s the last couple days and today is light spotty precipitation not ambitious enough to even call a drizzle out of iron grey skies as a cold front moving in tonight to bring us down below freezing for like 6-8 hours in the early morn tomorrow.)  So I was laying there, trying to convince the snuggly animals that I really OUGHT to get up and make some coffee get dressed and if Waffles wanted a walk needed to get on that in case M was getting dropped off in the morning to spend the day with us (spoiler alert: Waffles did want a walk, but we agreed to keep it brisk paced to be home no later than 8:50 and that she would keep long bouts of sniffing to a minimum if I promised not to stop at the two little libraries en route that I just perused day before yesterday. Also spoiler alert: Mikaela was running too late for her mom to drop her off so I promised to be in the office by lunch to join them today and then get my outdoor tasks done to prep things as much as I can before the freeze and if I can get enough done and there's space between employee cars to cart over the bags of mulch maybe put out that before sundown at 6 now that the ground is FINALLY soaked enough I can safely put it down and have it retain moisture not repel it.)

Right. So. I was laying there cuddling the happy doggo sprawled along the length of me and kitteh curled up purring on my chest thinking about getting started on today's time imperative have tos and I just started laughing apropos of nothing because there was just an unexpected flood of love down the bond like, "Hi. Just so you know, I love you and this is real, k?" And it wasn't til after I had sent a returning wave of love and reassurance that I wasn't (currently) in the mood to do anything stupid (or try to insist it wasn't real I was just imagining it) down the bond that I had the sudden giggle quake that upset the cat enough to leave with affront and the dog to start frantically licking my neck and face because maybe we SHOULD get up for a walk not sleep snuggle all morning. And I just started laughing because, well, it just struck me as rather ludicrous how intangible any "rational" reasons for trusting and believing there's anything there or could be and yet how persistently strong and infallible the truth of it FEELS intuitively in the core knowing whenever I feel his soul reach down the bond toward me. It just sort of struck me as funny this morning at how defiant of logic and yet how unshakeable certain it is when I listen to it. (Aristotle would not approve. But Diogenes would suggest I find a chicken to pluck and tell Aristotle where to shove his logic ) 

And so then I leapt out of bed and was thinking coffee til Waffles started dancing that she WOULD like a morning walk before a midnorning snoozle so I quickly went to throw on some jeans and skivvies and a bra and tee shirt (did not brush my hair or do a damn thing with the curly bed head except run my fingers in it to assess if I could give it enough of a part to stay out of my face or if it needed to get pulled back.) And while getting dressed that amusement and hope and love was all bubbling up in me making me think of the Emily Dickinson poem and as I stepped outside with the dog, I declaimed to the tree barren of leaves and to my crow friend, Baby Jon, sitting in the tree waiting for me: 

"“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -" 

The crow Baby Jon liked that, flipped his wings and preened and then hopped back and forth along the branch excitedly asking for more so I promised him after the walk was over that I would look up the rest of it to tell him, because my pre coffee brain could only think of the first stanza right then. There was only the one young crow to greet us this morning because my murder got hit particularly hard by avian flu or poison this summer, there are also fewer squirrels and rabbits and chipmunks than usual so I'm going to guess poison probably a new lawn pesticide/herbicide poison but over the summer avian flu was bad again even if it didn't get much traction in news cycles. There aren't many of my crows anymore right near me but about half again as many more survived over by my work. Of the entire murder of 30+ who lived in the trees within a half block radius of my condo, only three that I know of survived "the sickening" and "the great fatigue" as they explained it and Jon Snow who I rescued all those years ago is not among them though his grandson Baby Jon who gave me the Shakespeare leather bookmark is one I'm very close to and is one of the few survivors -- not many songbirds around this summer or fall either, just one sparrow  visiting the choke cherry tree today instead of the hordes of cardinals and finches who usually visit to eat it. Mostly just the wild turkey flocks and about half the number of hawks as usual and  a couple owls and an occasional bluejay and a few remaining crows who are quieter and more cautious and mourning compared to their usual brash joyous chatter....

And so Baby Jon, the grandson of Jon Snow the baby crow who knew nothing when he fell out of his nest into a crowd of picnickers and dogs at Concerts on the Square over a decade ago, the crow flirted along with us jauntily cawing and exploring as we went around the big block and he hid from both flocks of turkeys we encountered because a lone crow is no match for even the yearling flock of turkeys. The bigger ones, the flock of Tom's, were NOT moving out of the middle of the sidewalk in our path til my 8:40 warning alarm went off to for if M was coming over before 9. And my morning alarms are rooster calling because the first time I found that in my options it made me laugh and 9 out of 10 times I hear it, it makes me laugh even if first thing in the morning when I didn't get enough sleep. So even though I grabbed it turned it off right away, that first startlingly loud cock-a-doodle-doo spooked the hell out of the wild turkeys, sent them running across the road faster than I've ever seen turkeys run. 🤣 it's the happiest most mischievous crow like I've seen Baby Jon in months as he watched those toms take off from the sound of a rooster on my phone alarm. He called Baby Jack and Baby Dawn (the other two survivors) who came winging in to chuckle and circle and watch the turkey toms run like that. 

And also I have no idea WHAT my neighbors must think, but I definitely first thing after taking the dog's leash off and giving the cat a few quick pets grabbed the book from the poetry shelf in my bedroom then went and opened the balcony door and sat down on my balcony chairs and called out, "Baby Jon, did you want the rest of that poem then?" And the crow came flying over to sit on the balcony and the other two sat a bit further away in the tree (they're a bit more skittish cautious of me and they're a matched/mater pair) so I read to them from one of my Emily Dickinson poetry books:

"“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me."

I read it to them three times before Baby Jon flipped his wings started strutting to tell he was good with that one for now and then he pecked at the book to ask for another poem and I laughed told him I would read them some more Emily Dickinson another day because I needed to go make some coffee now and figure out a quick breakfast. I don't actually know how much my crow friends understand, but it's like talking to the dog or cat so they know what's going on just in case they understand the words/telepathic intent behind the words. It never hurts to be polite. Especially when dealing with animals, fair folk, trees, spirits, angels, and messengers from old gods.

And yes, I am the weird elf witch girl who finds lost black tuxedo cats at midnight of Friday the 13th and lifelong befriends crows and after taking her mostly black dog on a walk, reads to her crow friends (and the cat and dog sitting inside the balcony screen door watching us) some Emily Dickinson poems on a brisk gray autumn morning less than a day before the full blood moon eclipse just three days before Samhain -- and no you can't train or shame or change that weird out of me. Either accept my wyrd (and hopefully love it) or don't but I am quite shameless and honest about my wyrd in this life and unless you want a whole world of stubborn defiance from me I suggest never trying to change that about me.

Now. Coffee and I think maybe I'll heat up some bread cheese (jaastelopeia (sp?) It's a Scandinavian thing, outside toasts crispy and inside gets gooey and it's delightful as the weather turns and for late night snacks! Best with lingonberry jam, but any tart berry jam or maple syrup or honey is like a mini miracle of delight when you're hungry after a brisk walk in the autumn/winter brisk) to have with jam because that is way less work than chopping up veggies to figure out something more substantial to make and still be hungry again by lunch time.