proceeded to smoothly move us into our new offices. The project manager for the move regaled us with stories of celebrity moves and foreign travel to show people in exotic places how to assemble modular office furniture. He really knew his stuff, though, and guided the two less experienced fellows through the paces sans scratch or undue sweat.
My desk is now happily installed, my boxes are ready to be transferred back onto shelves and cabinets, and I have that feel of someone who worked a good day's work.
I still haven't figured out the best way from home to office. I am one of those people who is congenitally on a side road, using leading
away from the most purposeful path. I'm eager to become one of those people who knows the way home, and often takes it.
On the drive home, red stalks towered above the small yucca they planted along the freeway.
Fields of Queen Anne's lace here, there wildflowers comprised of stalks from which white and yellow bells hung. A small bird attacked a crow as I drove by the building on which they both perched. Crows are no respecter of small birds and their eggs, so it is not an odd sight.
I'll never forget, though, the time in a Rancho Santa Ana garden in Claremont, California when a huge hawk was harassed by a pair of crows,
trying to drive him away. They maneuvered
like little fighter planes pounding away at a bomber. They had to return to base, though, when, of all things, another hawk came up to provide "reinforcements". Life is one big air force, and I am on the ground crew. I'm a conscientious objector in the bird wars, anyway...
