I love the old meaning of 'broadcast': the act of casting seed far out for seeding. It brings back images tied into the land that hold great power over my mind.

When I broadcast seed onto the porch roof by my bedroom window, I seed birds, not earth, but the crop is nonetheless pleasurable. The crop this morning has been snowbirds, chickadees, and cardinals, male and female. I see a chickadee right now as I type. He buffets over the air while approaching the rooftop like a little boat upon active waves.