Dorian Hargrove 8:30 p.m., Dec. 12
i alway got the same feeling when i visited Trudy's antique store
it was housed in an old "out of business" filling station...one had the urge to stand outside for a few minutes to try to figure out the original logo which was undecipherable under peeling paint
the windows were dust laden...and you couldn't make out anything inside
once inside the smell of coffee assailed ones senses...but if you were a newcomer you wouldn't be offered a cup...it was for "friends only" and you had to bring your own cup
junky kitsch and true lovely antiques sat side by side loosely scattered about the cluttered shop...it seemed a quickly thrown together nest for a careful brown sparrow with a practiced smile and wings ever ready to fly if any problems should appear
Trudy stayed behind her desk and pointed in the direction of items one might like to see
it wasn't that she was unfriendly...her voice was soft and mellifluous...she just seemed removed from the interactions in ways
an invisible barrier existed
difficult to get a handle on...
as a longtime feeder of birds i knew not to press into her territory for fear she would soar away
Clarence was a jovial bull in a china shop when he came in...his paramour not hanging back...a Cowbird laying her eggs tried to claim Trudy's nest....
Annette was all breast and hips and swagger...the shine on the back of her pants gave credence to her every morning ride
the two of them ultra friendly... boxed things up...sat new items down..poured themselves steaming coffee and just generally ignored the Sparrows claim to her domain
and Trudy became even more invisible...but she held her ground.....and guarded what was left of her nest