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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Averill Shepps who wrote (15760)	12/22/1998 4:35:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

Hi people! Gaugie-in-New-Mexico here. Averill, the people we're staying with, here in sunny New Mexico, ("Land Of Enchantment ~Really") are Quinn and Sharon. I just asked them if I could use their real names, and no one could could think of any reason not to. Which fits the magic of NM. Quinn says, laughing, "Say Sharon and Quinn's Orchard ~ Soon to be the next Harry and David." It's a three acre orchard of peaches, apples, plums, nectarines, pears, and cherries. Wow. The trees are out the windows, before the mountains and blue and white sky. Older and younger trees, looking Van Gogh-y.New wood branches are are plummy brown; trunks a silver pink. It's quiet here. Believe you me. (Whatever that means.) (Which is why people say "Honest.") Birds come through and sit down, in the orchard floor, two thousand together; and then come back. They appear suddenly from above the window and settle down, like snow. Snow with steering. Snow that can go up; backwards. And is brown and chattery. I opened the door to hear them. They sounded happy. And busy. I fell asleep on the floor of this room facing east, where the computer is. I got my head in the sun, and slept from about nine til noon, in the den; as the market was really boring this morning. Like anesthesia. I didn't wake up earlier with time for a shower, and MJ has just ordered me to take one. My hair is poking out like greasy bird feathers. "You can't go to people's houses and look like that at one o'clock." "You can to a friend's house. A friend will let you look like this at one o'clock. This is how I look at one o'clock at my house half the time." "They have guests coming." "Ok." Quinn just came in from the Post Office. "The birds out there are having a good time. Making a racket." "I was just saying that! I was just writing about them! I must have summoned them!" "Well, go on out there and hear them!" I did. About a thousand of them. I can't tell if each one squeaks, because in ten seconds of squeaks on top of squeaks, typed dozens-right-over-the-top-of-others, no beginning or end, it could be dozens or hundreds of squeakers, or all of them. Chippy little sound edges, pineapple skin, very close together. Thick, deep, never silent; alpha and omega. Filling between the chippy, snappy milliseconds, is some meaty center; ch...ir...p; some smooth.....but tart and fleshy drone. It's hard to taste exactly, because of all the ch-ch-chipping, but "it's IN there" ~ a flavor like tangerine. I can't tell if it's all of them, or if some of them are quiet. Some of them could be content to just eat, or stuffing themselves, and think of their friends as probably noisier than they need to be. I just asked Sharon. "Do you think when those flocks come in, and take off, do you think they all squeak, or just most of them." "I think they all squeak. Well, well.....maybe there's one quiet one." "ONE QUIET ONE? You're saying there's ONE quiet one? Out of a thousand birds, there's ONE quiet one?" Started a little argument. Better go take my shower. It's okay to look like heck and stink, but I better save the arguing for later in the trip. Crud. I never got to the story. Had fruit loops instead.