Retiree Diary

Some days it's hard to know what to feel about this Virus that seems to be stalking all of us. I sense that a lot of us are scared - of the sickness, of dying, and of the next few moths and years with all sorts of financial problems. And worried for our loved ones. It's a time for re-evaluating our lives, and thinking about what happens after death. Yep, I have even updated my Will. So, I have found this Psalm a great comfort. Of course, it is dependent on "dwelling in the shelter of the Most High". Otherwise there is a great deal to be afraid of. Psalm 91 1  Whoever dwells in the shelter  of the Most High      will rest in the shadow  of the Almighty. [ a ] 2  I will say of the  Lord , “He is my refuge  and my fortress,      my God, in whom I trust.” 3  Surely he will save you      from the fowler’s snare      and from the deadly pestilence. 4  He will cover you with his feathers,      and under his wings you will find refuge;      his faithfulne

This week, in the midst of the the craziness and stress over the Coronavirus, our power went out. Twice. If we were still living in Northam, that would be no surprise. But here in Butler you don't expect it. The Western Power people explained that it was an "Unplanned Outage", and there were suggestions that the system was overloaded - what with all the extra freezers running keeping the hoarders stockpiles fresh, as well as the air conditioners running in this hot weather with everyone staying at home. The first outage was after dark. We were in our swimming pool for our evening splash, with the underwater light glowing blue and red, and suddenly ... total darkness. But not silence. The local Corellas started up such a ruckus. Apparently they didn't like the sudden change. Two nights later we had our second outage, but just before dark. Again the birds were very upset as it got dark - pitch black - and we heard them fly off in a massive, squawking flock.

The big birds, like the Corellas, can be so much fun to watch. They sound like they are talking to us, making a contented "choo!" sound as they eat, and squawking almost rudely when they are upset by something. And then there are the slightly fluffy young ones that make little squeaky noises as they seem to be waiting for someone to vomit some food for them. Or the young ones sit there in a row making a continuous almost buzzing sound - no evidence of pausing for breath. This one sat on the edge of the roof, looking down at us. There is something comical about the way they tilt their head to look at you with one eye, and then turn to look at you with the other.