Three things from DAH.

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. Bird by bird.  

First up this week, Twitchers …  
Oh, our relics of childhood. When I was a boy my parents were very good at trying out hobbies on me and my brothers. Some stuck, some didn't. I received guidebooks about birds, for example, and recordings of their songs. And while I never became a twitcher (one of those serious listers of rare bird sightings) I never lost my fascination for feathered flight. Nor my fear of it, to be honest (I blame Hitchcock). I still have bird books, and I've enough interest to want them nearby. One day I'll feel I have time enough, and be brave enough, to crack them open purposefully. Maybe even brave enough to go for a walk in Bodega and Bodega Bay, California. I know. I shouldn't let mere movies make me feel so twitchy.
Top 10 Reasons to Be a Bird Watcher

Second up this week, Tosspots …  
Yes, I even miss the tosspots. I miss having a "local" or a "regular" despite (sometimes because of) the over-imbibers who frequented some hang-outs past. I long for one of those places where everybody knows my name. Or, if not everybody, at least the likelihood of one or two who know my face. The sort of place where I could count on finding friends no matter when I stopped in. Moving frequently has made that more difficult. I used to think the perfect place to live would be within walking distance of a great independent bookshop, a 24-hour coffee joint, a wine bar, or a brew pub. When we had our family wine bar, and when we were more involved in the performing arts, lack of that perfect place didn't rankle. Our networks of friends and acquaintances were wide, and connections easily made. These days, the lack of that place feels like an empty space in life. What we need is more real third places, not just the virtual ones that have proliferated during pandemic.
"Third places" as community builders

Third up this week, Terroirists …  
I thrill to things of a place. That's one of the principal reasons I've been so long fascinated by wine -- because of the special character that can be imparted to wine by where it was grown and made. In French: the goût de terroir, or taste of the land. I feel that way about more than just wine. Almost everything that really matters to me (comestible or not) has some goût de terroir. Of course, there are things that can taste OK and function appropriately that offer none of that. I acknowledge their utility, but they are of little long-term interest to me. I long for the siren song of place -- the land, the people, their stories, and the things they make. 
Terroirists vs Naturalists: Tribal Wine Wars

And a bit more:
Bird On the Wire, by Leonard Cohen
(or, if you'd rather, Leonard Cohen performing the song)

Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free

Like a worm on a hook
Like a knight from some old-fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee
If I, if I have been unkind
I hope that you can just let it go by
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you

For like a baby, stillborn
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee

I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, "you must not ask for so much"
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, "hey, why not ask for more?"
Oh, like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free

And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …  

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it. 

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