A New Resident on My Property

So now I have an owl. He sits in the ash tree that hangs over my front walkway. Here's what he--cute little guy that he is--has meant to my life.

•  The sparrows who have and raise up their babies in the bird house on my back deck are out of here. Quit their nest building mid-task. And they are nowhere to be seen, not on my deck, not in the backyard trees, not on my porch or flower pots.
• No robins or starlings peck around the yards.
• Flickers and quail I occasionally see in the neighborhood, but not at my place.
• I hear no finches outside my writing room window.
• The mourning doves have quieted and do not sit on my roof.
• Squirrels are scarcer. I'm not weeping over it.
• I heard the owl calling in the early dark one morning, no doubt signaling these other animals to stay clear of his territory.
• I have told him this is my house. I know he heard me because he was looking right at me.
• I have to wash and scrub the front walkway daily. And for a little owl, I mean, he is a cute little owl, he leaves a lot of stuff. Large splatty poops and small brown bundles of regurgitated animal parts. Did you want to know about that?
• The other day, when I turned on the sprinkler to wet down the place and start my scrubbing, he watched the water move across the lawn.
• I do not yell at him. Not yet, at least.

I like him and I don't like him.

P.S.

I still care about a lot of things.

And she's right about my legs.

At choir practice

We sat together in the alto section. She pointed to the music, measure 30.
"That's 30," she said.
"Yes," I said, "I see it. A three and a zero."
Suddenly we weren't talking about music.
She: Thirty. After that everything goes down, down, down.
Me: Oh. And how old are you?
She: Thirty.
Me: (Thinking that thirty is not the point in life after which everything goes down, down, down.) Oh, yes. I see. But really, it's not so old.
She: I hope I live to be your age, when you just don't care about anything anymore.
Me: (More than a little taken aback.) Oh, you can see that by looking at me? (Thinking I looked pretty good, thank you, and knowing I had taken a bath that morning.)
She: It's just that I was shocked when I heard how old you are because you still have really good-looking legs.
Me: (Half under my breath) That's not all.

Thank goodness we had to sing again, and this strange conversation was ended.

Obviously, I have reflected on the conversation a time or two. And I do not know what it means.

Like, what does she mean by "when you don't care about anything anymore"?
Why does she think her life is nearly over at age 30 and on the down, down, down path?
Does she not know that she has 40 years before she's my age and can do SO MUCH in 40 years? Forty years!
And why and how often is she looking at my legs?