Ravens

I don't feel very fun in the fall. I've moved into the earnest, somewhat stressed, not enough Vitamin D mode. 

Except at dinner last night when I spit smoothie. My children like to mock my cooking concoctions sometimes. I will always be a cheap German who tries to use everything until it is gone, unless I can leave a tiny bit in the bag so somewhere else has to throw it away.

So we had halibut on Sunday night. But I got distracted chasing chickens out of the neighbor's yard and overcooked it a minute. Here's the thing about halibut. If you overcook it for a minute, it turns into this never-ending chew experience. Nothing some special sauce and cheese couldn't fix, but there were some leftovers.

I couldn't just warm it up as is for Monday night or they still would be chewing so naturally I made it into chowder. And maybe I threatened that if it didn't all get eaten, it would reappear on Tuesday night as casserole. My sweet Hannah asked if it would be soggy bread, chewy halibut with cheese on top casserole. Turd. They ate it all and made me laugh hard.

But that has nothing to do with ravens, except there is a paper raven taped to my window that simultaneously makes me laugh and creeps me out. It's on my office windows at church so the whole time I'm trying to focus on Jesus I hear, 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary ... 

It's not easy trying to think of something inspirational when the tapping, tapping of death is right there. 

And it is. This fall has been a difficult one for Juneau with way too many tragic deaths.

But it also makes me laugh. Becky taped them on the office windows because we have a mountain ash tree in the front of church. If you are unfamiliar with mountain ash trees, you should get one for your yard. Actually, come dig the one up from the church and put it in your yard.

The berries are edible and messy all over the sidewalk, but they also ferment and the robins who love eating them get drunk. 
Seriously drunk. 
And fly into our windows. 
It's horrible. Except when it's slightly amusing watching them behave erratically. 

So we remind them of imminent death if they don't change their ways or at least where the window is they should avoid.  

Such is the nature of fall.