I live in a very urban space, new canyons being hurled up around me by cranes daily, the only birds visible from my 24th floor balcony ring-billed gulls and the occasional cormorant or starling. There were a pair of killdeers nesting on the ground below me last year, but they plowed down all the green space and the few spindly trees for the building-that-stole-my-sunset.
But apparently I have chickens.
I have no idea what that was about but that one sign on the entry door to my building on a sunday afternoon was one of about a dozen chicken images throughout the building.
I think I bought this in a sweet coffee shop in Phoenix where I met my friend Jaz for a coffee a couple of months ago, and it kept me alive while getting finishing the Giant Lit Review and getting geared up for the Triad.
And there are flowers in the tiny dog park I scoot through while running, usually having to hurdle over a knot of dogs and leashes tangled in the little gateway. And if you look closely at the echinacea flowers, there are bees.
The endless construction is noisy and dusty and obstructive, and I’m a little tired (understatement) of having to circumnavigate Dangerous Vehicles to exit my neighbourhood. But having the “need to take at least one photo a day” mandate at a low level all the time makes me look beyond the big booming crashing dusty urban boulders everywhere.