Then one evening, I jumped out of my chair.
It was time! Tonight, I'd cut those lengths of parachute cord and tie them in place to make — voila — zen birdsavers!
Out came the scissors and cord, and I began to measure, snip and knot at the kitchen table.
Until Scott said, "What are you doing?" and proceeded to suggest a different and, to his way of thinking, better way.
It would mean I had to prime and paint a couple of boards, and cut the cords a different length because they would be attached via a whole different mechanism than I had visualized.
He wanted to hang the birdsavers two feet from the window, not at all what I was visualizing, and —
And there went the wind out my sails.
I couldn't paint that night, and couldn't continue as I was.
I set the cord aside and it's been there for several weeks.
In the meantime, the birds are still hitting the window once in a while, but it's not as bad as it was.
I hung half-a-dozen scarves from the curtain rod and lined up vases on the window ledge; whatever might catch the attention of a bird in flight and warn it that there is "something" there.
This is only a temporary and poor solution, however. In a certain light and from a certain angle, the bird sees only sky and trees reflected in the window glass. It can't see inside.
The birdsavers must still be made, and soon.
I just have to work up my enthusiasm again.