Today's walk with Miley was rife with the hot-dirt smell which I so strongly associate with Camp, which was lovely. And the creek was and is ever gorgeous in every way. I can't wait until I can swim in wild water again, sleek under the sun in the clean dusty water.
As we neared the woods a beautiful bird (one not often seen in our neighborhood) took off from its perch beside the stream in the ditch. Its tail feathers fanned out as it took off, and were all tipped with white. I think it may be some kind of game bird, but I can't remember what and I lack the energy or time for a full-scale Google Images search at the moment. It wasn't quail or pheasant. Possibly grouse (last search I'm doing tonight), but I think it seemed smaller than most of the pictures that are coming up. Anyway, it was a treat.
On the way back up the hill toward the house, I found a perfect grey feather, short and wide and adorned with a few stripes of lighter grey near the base. Though there's always a part of my brain telling me that it's silly and I've nowhere to put it and that it's just a feather/lizard tail/mummified newt/rock/flower/interesting stick*, I can never resist picking these things up and carrying them home with me as treasures.
Tonight I decided to give in to my nature and go watch Glee and Raising Hope with my friend Lael down the street. Usually I see her when I babysit for her, but our schedules haven't worked out in that way for a while. I haven't seen her in at least a month or two I think, and I don't think seen those shows since the fall. Glee was nice, and I really, really love Raising Hope. I'd like to own the seasons. And Lael is always excellent. I am so glad to know her.
I have been tired before, obviously, but I'm not sure I've ever experienced anything like this, or not for a while, and not as the result of something other than depression (which can really mess with a person's sleep cycles). I cannot remember ever having been so consistently weary. I've been coming home and trying to go to sleep before the sun is even down. I still fail, but I try. Of course, here I am on the internet, and it's almost eleven. Bedtime for me.
I may be exhausted, but I love what I'm doing. I love tutoring.
*These are actual items that I have collected and stashed in an undisclosed location at Camp. There they remain, because I am and, I hope, will ever be a six-year-old boy at heart.