What is it like to get in tune with the place you live and work?
Poptart, my weird orange cat, has been sitting with me and taking up her half of the chair for the entirety of writing this entry to the blog. As sleepy co-author, she still deserves some credit. Especially since we both like to watch the crows building their nests (likely for different reasons).
It’s been three weeks since I made a big move from Lynnwood down into Edmonds, and I’m starting to feel pretty well set up. We’re painting the walls(1) one by one as we get to them, my bedroom is close to being in its final form(2), and we’ve been making good use of the Coleman hot tub we put behind the house. We have plans for the backyard that I’ve been looking forward to(3), but even moreso I’d been anticipating getting to walk to work.
When I realized that a change of residence was in my near future, I started the well-practiced routine of asking my friends and partners for any leads on housing. Rental markets aren’t ever really that friendly, but my options were particularly limited. I didn’t want to live right in downtown Edmonds and be tied to the store at the hip(4), but I also wasn’t particularly interested in going even further afield with this move than I already was(5). Luck and a lot of lifting and scheduling and such landed me a place about a half hour walk from the store, and I couldn’t have been happier.
I used to walk everywhere when I was in school in Bellingham. Granted, my world was a little smaller back then, and I barely even used the car I’d gotten on the cheap(6) until after graduating. Walking was a time to sit with my quiet mind, hum my way through songs that’ve been trying to be heard, and see the world far more slowly(7) than I possibly could while focusing on driving with all the perils and speed it brings with it.
Views from my walk to work
I had been looking forward to this because, in the past, walking for extended periods almost daily was good for my mental health. A forced reset in stillness as I make my way slowly to my destination. What I didn’t count on as a matter of fact was the company I’d end up keeping.
I’d noticed the first couple of times I walked that several of the copses of trees along the route were alive with sound. There had been crows I knew that frequented the quiet road out front of my mom’s house(8). Had I found some of my very own?
There’s a surprisingly robust body of literature online surrounding the topic of befriending crows. In short, though, they like to latch on to the same things as me: patience and routine. They have a stronger taste for peanuts than I do, so I decided to trade a bag from Winco (unsalted) for friendship. In just three weeks, they’ve grown from initially trusting that the food wasn’t going to hurt them to congregating in the tree in my front yard when I leave for the day. I sometimes whistle for them(9), but it’s not my intention to treat them as pets or have them treat me as their only source of food. Still though, it’s lovely to see a crow go absolutely nuts for nuts and call out to its family. Soon three or more crows are all joining in its happy dance. For the next few hours at least, they have one fewer thing to worry about.
The crows are just one thing that I’ve gotten to be more in tune with as I’ve settled into my new spot so close to Edmonds. I’m getting to be more in tune with the store and able to jump in as needed when needed at shorter notice. I’ve worried a lot over where I want to be and live, but I think for now I’m happy.
A bonus picture of my outfit for Crow Fest 2022 in Bothell this past October. It’s not even a big deal, but me and my friends DID win best group costume this year.
(1) If every wall is an accent color, then they’re all equally special.
(2) The lump on the back of my head from assembling my bed frame has just about receded. The chunk of wood that was knocked loose by my head is gone for good.
(3) I’m going to gush just a little bit that my partner and I have plans to start growing a reasonable amount of our own food. We’re just about to start turning up ground to plant, we’ll hopefully be set up to keep quails here soon enough to hatch them soon, and next year they offered to build me boxes and frames to keep bees. Homemade encaustic paints anyone?
(4) I love the store a lot; I wouldn’t be taking over ownership if I didn’t. I do value having a bit of distance though while still being close enough to run in at short notice if needed.
(5) If I had taken my budget and had to live on my own, I’d probably be looking at a 30-45 minute commute to Edmonds at least. I do love a long drive. I listened to the entire Witcher series of books while driving from Lynnwood this past year, but at a certain point I just don’t want to be giving that many hours of my life to sitting in a car burning fuel.
(6) My fantastic red Ford Escape was the only other car I owned, and I drove it all the way into the ground before giving it up for the care I have now. Someday I hope to have a car that isn’t 20 years old, but nobody is ever going to get rich selling art supplies.
(7) I think often of a Robert Frost poem, A Passing Glimpse (1928) with lines that include:
I often see flowers from a passing car
That are gone before I can tell what they are.
and
Heaven gives it glimpses only to those
Not in position to look too close.
(8) Agnes, the crow, went by as many different names as there were people who fed her, but that’s how I knew her. She was easy to recognize with a broken wing that prevented her from ever even attempting flight. As far as I know, she hasn’t been seen in at least a few months, which doesn’t look good for her.
(9) The same combination of notes every time. Patience and routine.