Sq-walking To Work

This happened a little over a week ago.  You know, I wonder what it would be like to write about things as they happen, as they occur to me – but I find that my thoughts are like custard:  besides being bland and a little mushy…they require some time to set.  There is nothing about my mentality which can be called spontaneous.  My impulses are anything but.

Anyway.  I was suffering through my walk to work.  I say that because it wasn't even nine o'clock in the bloody bright AM, and the sky had already turned humid – it was pale; the blue atmosphere barely filtering through the clouds.  They were lowering, stretched thin across the sky…these clouds would later trap the heat like a steam-cooker, leaving all of us tender, well-done and with the meat just falling off the bone.  I had been walking for possibly 10 minutes, and was already schvitzing

So.  Tired and moist, I continued on my death march.  I passed by the one street which displayed palm trees on its corners – the other streets chosing to shun the romance of the desert.  These palms were tall and slim – waving their fans in the barely perceptible wind, like willowy slaves.

But there something else about these trees; they were emitting – like the most raucous and unholy street party, the most undying cacophony, the most strident fishwife, the most brain-shattering playground – a multitude of screeching, as I had never heard before.  It was positively rude.

And it was all coming from the clutch of fronds below the broad leaves.

This of course made me stop and squint into the unwelcome sun.  No good.  I fumbled in my purse for my glasses; yes:  'corrective lenses' were definitely needed if I wanted to see what was going on thirty-five feet above my head.

I peered…there was certainly some type of movement going on, a type of rustling, like mice burrowing through hay.

Now, the local ravens were not happy about this noisie.  Ordinarily very tolerant creatures, they were swooping around this Tree of Loud – landlords in respectable black, trying to figure out who these irritating new tenants were, and maybe hoping that they would vacate the premises.

One flew in too close – and suddenly from one palm burst a flock of fluttering wings.  They flew in wild, mad circles – not in a dignified, orderly 'v' – and when they flew beneath the sun, I was thrilled to see the light on their backs suddenly turn green and yellow, picking up a spot of rose near their beaks.


Now, bands of wild parrots (robbing liquor stores, street-racing, etc.) to many is an old story.  And many more I'm sure find their high-pitched yelling annoying.  And I've noticed that the seed pods – split and chewed – scattered about the base of the trees were beginning to cook in the sun.  What I'm saying is that many people will see these colorful mobs as pests.

Not I.

They're parrots!  They're green!  C'mon – enjoy!

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12 responses to “Sq-walking To Work

  1. Walking to work? AND parrots? *envious sigh*

  2. Great story! and I love your artwork!, however, I was captured by your comment about CUSTARD.
    I was just thinking last night after dessert that I don't like Creme Brulee. I like plain cornstarch custard, and cold at that. And I was going to write a post today about why, and as I was scanning vox watch this morning, the word CUSTARD jumped out at me. HOW "insert amazed synonym here" is that?!

  3. Love it! When I was a kid I lived a couple of years in the Amazon… wild parrots are wonderful to watch. Those "landlords in respectable black" ravens may have met their match with the partying green parrots.
    Your writing style is delightful… and illustrated even! đŸ™‚ I'm a fan of your use of language.
    OH! and isn't it as humid as all flock??? whew…

  4. I recently watched the documentary "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" and it was SO charming. It was a thrill when I heard the parrots screeching when I was in SF the other day.

  5. We have them in Long Beach too. Green parrots or parakeets. They live in a specific set of palm trees near the ocean. I used to LOVE when nearly the entire flock would do a morning fly-over in Belmont Shore.
    Now that I'm further north, I only rarely hear them.

  6. G-Rumble: I'm not a custard fan at all…when I have a dessert at all, it needs to be dense and it needs to have texture – two qualities custard seems to lack. Why not just have a massive cheese plate and have done?
    Mars: the Amazon? Child, you are going to HAVE to go into more detail!
    BBiker: I hear their mid-air discussions every day now. I always have to stop and look, since I've already listened.
    LeendaDLL: Parrots? Palms? The Pacific? Tres exotique!

  7. You guys stop talkin 'bout sweets… I'm jonesing over here!! lol
    The Amazon: ::grin:: yea, I was an oil field brat in Venezuela from 2nd grade to part of 5th – early 70's. I had an Amazon yellow head parrot. Mom wasn't too crazy about living there but I thought it was a grand adventure. Went on a couple multi-family fishing / camping trips off the Orinoco River — sleeping in hammocks. The company oilfield camp we lived at for the first 2 yrs was pretty remote but there was a small community swimming pool! No TV, no phone in the house, but there was a huge stack of old National Geographics left by God knows how many previous people. I loved them — no wonder I'm such a geek. lol

  8. Hello Aubrey!First – I LOVE custard!!! Seeing it mentioned over and over here makes my tummy grumble for it now. . . &:o(Second — you're so lucky! I would LOVE seeing a wild parrot like that! Up here in Philly, that just doesn't happen ( unless someone's pet gets loose. ) How very very cool. You'll keep looking for them now, right?Third — Yeah, I agree with the other peeps who mentioned liking your writing style — it's always pleasant to listen to your words.Have a good day, Aubrey. &:o)

  9. Dear Aubrey, Do submit something to The Review, it would be so marvelous, so fantabulous, and you would be in such good company. Why ever not? xoxo, Renee

  10. i simply cannot see anything about you, aubrey, as bland or mushy. another lovely post.

  11. oh my, parrots on the way to work! that's more excitement than I get in a week. đŸ™‚

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