January 27, 2026

Where: the brushy hedgerow

When: 1:20pm

Bird Species: house sparrow, house finch, American crow (flyover), turkey vulture (flyover)

Things I Thought About:

• It’s gonna be a little embarrassing when I have to post a finch or a sparrow again, but that’s simply all there is around here right now. The species name is preceded by “house” for a reason.
• That turkey vulture was waiting for me to die, I guess, but now that I can finally move my car after a third day of shovel operations I guess he gave up on me.
• I think I am not aging into an old lady, I am aging into an Old Grandpa. Case in point, I put a genuine cloth bandana in my coat pocket before I came out and I have blown my nose in it and crammed it back into my pocket two dozen times. It works every time, I can find it with my gloves on, and it’s soft on a nose that is running like a firehose in the cold. It is an idea whose time has come.  Is it practical, cheap, and waste conscious? Yes. Is it vaguely revolting? Also yes. Is it sexy? You don’t know that it isn’t. Some people are freaks.
• I should have considered the Old Grandpa path as inevitable when I bought all those hard candy sticks at Cracker Barrel in November.
• Speaking of vaguely revolting, the slogan on this Hostess Coffee Cake box is “Cake it up a notch,” which I do not care for one bit.
• The sparrows are having a meeting about the weather.

• Maybe it’s church. I believe there is a hymn about that, a lovely one. I don’t always believe it, but it’s beautiful to think about.
• Lauryn Hill sang that in Sister Act 2. No one has ever been as incandescently beautiful as 17 year old Lauryn Hill singing in Sister Act 2.
• Goodness gracious, humming that hymn almost made me cry. I cried yesterday listening to Hamilton because George Washington would be so ashamed of us, I surely don’t need to ruminate on how disappointed God must be.
• Smite smite smite smite smite.
• Fuck ICE. Also, fuck ice.

BOTD: the house sparrow. Very ordinary, very consistent. That’s what the Bible verse is about as I recall, he knows when a sparrow falls. And there really are people here in the winter cold looking out for the least of these.

This entry veered unexpectedly religious today, which is uncommon in my public musings, but not unprecedented. Despite the recent welcome increase in subscribers (thanks Brian and Rusty!) I’m keeping it, in the interest of an authentic Sara Kate experience. Wait until spring, when doubtless it will veer unexpectedly horny.