The birds are starving again.  I was able to keep up at first, when just the nervous but brave little chickadee and the pair of cardinals were visiting.  There might have been hope when the titmouse arrived, and perhaps even the mourning doves, who are good about cleaning up what gets kicked into the mulch, could have managed as well.  But once those finches found out I was back in the bird-feeding business, it was all over.  Add to that a vacation, and frankly it isn’t looking so good for the birds these days.  But I’m resolved to get that feeder refilled by the end of the week.  Haven’t decided whether I’m going to try to keep it full, or just try to refill weekly, and when it’s gone it’s gone.  That chickadee sure is cute, I hate to disappoint.

Meanwhile inside the house, things petered out as well.  Mr. Boy may or may not have been faking a foot injury this morning in order to get out of cleaning up after breakfast.  I sent him to bed and took it as my sign to do that "unpacking" thing written on my calendar.  I discovered that the trouble with de-cluttering the camper is that I end up with all the camper-clutter in my house instead.  Which had trouble enough of its own as it was.  I’m about 75% "put away" now, if by "put away" we include piling things on the guest bed because there isn’t any other away to put them.  And then there’s the cabinet I emptied in order to make room for the stash of special backpacking food, which now has its long-awaited place, but what about the ice-cream maker, orange-juicer, pasta pot, and I’m not sure what else that got the boot in the process.  A gang of homeless appliances — not a pretty sight.

No hymn this week, either.  It should be "All Glory, Laud and Honor", but I need to either pick out the tune on the keyboard (my lifetime cumulative piano training: approximately twenty minutes) or find a midi file to do it for me.   I remind myself worse things could happen than skipping the song of the week.

There is plenty of good news, though. Pop came through his surgery very well, and is already home and getting around.  He’s a little discouraged, but word is he’s been prescribed a month of the ol’ see-food diet, so we’re going to do what we can to help him get his appetite back.  (He’s never been overweight — probably errs on the side of eating too little rather than too much.)  The pansies are still alive, too, thanks to well-timed rains, as are the one patch of marigolds that were spared in the recent floral upheaval..   And I had at least one other piece of good news to share, but can’t remember what it is.