Molly’s Journals
The
woods and the world beyond
George compares Newt Gingrich to Sir Issac Newton. Birds accompany
me on my walk to the mail box.
March 15, 1995
George thought of a cartoon. Newt Gingrich is sitting under an apple tree. An apple falls on his head. He throws it away, cursing the commie artist welfare-mother hippies who are out to get him. Two birds are up at the top of the tree. One says to another, “Newt’s no Newton, is he?”
The day was beautiful. I saw Viva in the yard with a milkweed silk moored to her. It occurred to me that she looks like a milkweed fairy.
When I walked out the lane, two little grey birds flew alongside me, keeping to the bushes at the side of the road. It was fascinating to watch them fly a ways, the sun in their feathers creating a dynamic blur. Then they would perch on a branch from which they could keep their eyes on me while I walked by. They went with me for a long way. I heard crows, too.
There’s a deep purple iris reticulata that’s opened up in the yard.
The moon looked like green cheese for a bit tonight.
The radio said that the Russians almost exploded one of their nuclear facilities in a practice bombing run.
