Sweet 17

17...an odd number. I was going to change this blog to '16' but this ain't no Quinceanera dude. But on the side, do you recall when you were 16 of age?  For me and others, it was BC time....'before computers'. ... When life truly was life. Frankly that concept is unexplainable unless you had the fortune to live in the BC times. If you never did, I feel sad for you as life really was life back in those days.

But 17 was a dang good number the other day as I took my walk around Egg Harbor Township High School. Thru the year I have watched my little family of Bluebirds grow from 4 to what appears to be at least 17.

January 2019.....4 adult winter hold-overs enjoyed my bird feed. They knew my house and I knew their house. In the woods, over there...across the trail and towards grandmother's someplace. Today, we have 17 or perhaps more. They love the chain links fences and as I walk, they lead me forward, or perhaps I am chasing them. Regardless it is a game we play. 

The other day I did manage to count 17 on the fence or in flight, or near by. Like that, 17. I haven't given them names, nor could remember that list, or to which name belonged to whom. I just know them as my family. I walk, they are there. They lead me around the school on the edges and I am curious if they even care about me or if I am just some blob approaching them and their natural inclination is to just 'take off' as I near. I have a feeling that is the case.

No matter.....todo bien.