Ok, it's the whole bird thing again. Last night, Ron and I were sitting on the patio and all of the sudden he sits up straight in his chair and starts gasping, "Blue bird, blue bird. There's TWO of them! Look, look, look." (totally time traveling back to "See Spot run.") In my entire life (and it's quite an entirety) I've never seen a bluebird. Even though it's the state bird of Missouri and I lived there 25+ years, my eyes had not once laid eyes upon one. Slowly I turned in my chair, lest I frighten them off. And sure enough, there were two of the most gorgeous blue birds in the universe. We got to marvel at them for less that 30 seconds and they were off. Now this color of blue can only be described as Tiffany blue, but a deeper, richer blue. Like someone had bumped the saturation in PhotoShop. They were stunning. Except that we don't think they were really blue birds. Not the official Eastern Bluebird or the Mountain Bluebird. They were blue, all right, but according to Ron's field guide to birds, it was probably an indigo bunting. It was really, really cool. It's pathetic how little it takes to amuse me.
I'm so glad we live in a country where birds are allowed to fly wherever they want. They can get off course with being in danger of being locked up for flying into some international no fly zone. I love these United States of America.
So tonight we sat ourselves down on the patio, hoping against hope that the most beautiful blue birds in the universe would make another appearance. Alas, our hopes were dashed, I say, dashed. I think they found out about our reputation as being the government cheese equivalent in backyard eateries and moved on to more posh accommodations.
At least I can leave this world with the satisfaction of seeing a blue bird. Even though it wasn't a bluebird.
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