Puff happens

The view out the kitchen window shows that the bird feeders need tending. A new cake of suet for the cage feeder, and seed mixes for three other hanging feeders. All of them, this time around, are flavored with hot pepper to keep the squirrels disinterested.

Feeding the birds is a task the children have always enjoyed, as it involves scooping and pouring, and being helpful to boot.  Careful to make sure the 4-year-old granddaughter does not touch anything tender on herself with peppered fingers, I send her into the house to wash her hands while I clean up all the bird-product packaging. A new style of package has been causing no small frustration, with a single hole for pouring, and no rear "vent" to balance the pressure of the contents. Glad it is empty and eager to toss the mess into the garbage, I flatten the bag, only to receive a puff of air in the face. In the eyes. "Nice," I quip to myself, shaking my head with the final insult of the frustrating bag, before I fully realize what has just happened. A puff of hot pepper dust sprayed directly into my eyes. 

The pain is exquisite, excruciating. I bend at the waist with my eyes so tight my eye muscles are straining. Water, I think, I need water, as images of my college chemistry lab and the eye-rinsing station come to mind. The hose bib is halfway across the garden, and the hose is disconnected for the winter. I cry out for help, and as the husband brings water and proceeds to pour it over my face, I get a sense of what it might be like to be water-boarded. I finally end up with a watering can of water, a shot glass, and a rag, and can do nothing but wash and wash and wash. I fear I have blinded myself. I fear, too, that I am frightening the 4-year-old. (Yet am so so grateful she was in the house at the time of the puff of pepper dust.) It takes 20 minutes to be able to open my eyes enough to see my way into the house, and another 20 to wash out enough pepper that my eyes can stay open at will. The skin is burning as well, and I feel like a fire raccoon. 

It's been four days and my eyes are still watering, tired and irritated. I think I pulled an eye muscle(is that possible?).  And I think, in a moment, in a flash, your plans can change for the day, for the week, for a lifetime. Stuff happens. Puffs happen. But by the grace of God, we press on.

​At least the birds are enjoying the feast. 

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