My Cup runneth Over

Today is our anniversary. My husband woke me up early whispering, "Come here quick." He was standing in the doorway of the family room looking at the suction cup bird feeder we put up last winter. Two grosbeaks were trying, unsuccessfully, to get at the seeds. Sadly, the birds were too big. The last time we had grosbeaks in the yard was the year Mt. St. Helen blew, and that spring we had a yard full. Grosbeaks might visit a yard if black oil sunflower seeds are available but, then again, they might not. The sunflower seeds sell in 20 pound bags here and if the birds don't come, what are you going to do with all those seeds? We are debating the pros and cons. My husband and I enjoy many little things such as what birds are in the feeder, and have learned many things from each other. He has taught me war history and how to appreciate country and bluegrass music and how to spot game tracks. I have taught him about Russian history and different kinds of flowers, and moss--a specialty of mine. Together we try to identify birds or find out where the ships in the harbor are from. We talk to people in restaurants or in line at the grocery store or even the homeless.We have learned the words for hello in Korean, Russian, Spanish and Laotian and the emigrants we encounter are so pleased that we care enough to have learned. Everyday is made up of many little things that fill us to overflowing. When people ask me, what's new, it's hard to explain how exciting it is to see animal tracks in the snow or bird tracks in the sand on Commencement Bay or about the elusive peacock who plays hide-and-seek in the neighborhood. These are the sorts of things I try to include in my writing.