Silly Sunday

Please note that I did not title this post "Witty Sunday" or "Funny Sunday" or even "Dry Humor Sunday," because it is just a simple-minded break from all the chaos on this continent on which I live and all the tragedy on this planet on which I live.  It is not witty or erudite or even interesting, but it is therapy...for me at least.  I love the common visits by my birds.

I did re-size the photo to smaller and therefore the text is not a clear.  Next time I will have to keep full resolution.

Persistence

This lonely and newly fledged Titmouse has spent weeks tapping at my windows. He arrives in the early morning on the east side of the house where my cut leaf maple tree makes perfect take-off perching.  Then he does his morning exercise while I work on my blog or listen to a series of lectures on Winston Churchill.

He spends at least five full minutes calling and calling and calling. "Peter-Peter-Peter!" Is he calling for his mother and father? Where are his siblings? Did some tragedy strike his whole family?  His song is monotonous.

Then he braces himself and begins the repetitive process of flinging himself (herself?) against the window again and again and again.  My windows are sprayed with his saliva and may soon be scratched with his claws and beak. Eventually,  he flys to the west side of the house and to my patio door.

He peaks in to watch me working or to see if there is food or for some unknown other reason.  He is pretty much unafraid of my coming to the window and trying to tap him away. With that fearlessness and total focus, I am afraid he will soon be hawk food before summer is over.  I wonder when he has time to eat.

Should I open the door and invite him in???

Before Dinner or After?

Hubby wanted to go out in our canoe and that title of this post above is what he asked me at 3:00 P.M. on Memorial Day. He does not have to twist my arm much as I like the quiet and peacefulness of a canoe trip.  We had been snacking all day, so neither was really hungry for dinner and we decided that leaving at any time would be perfect.

We go past the mouth of our finger of the river and instead of turning left we turn right to go back up away from the water skiers, Skidooers, and partiers sitting on rubber rafts with the American flag waving. 

It does not take long before we are into the hushed part of the river. The part of the river, at first, where only quiet talk from owners on their docks is heard and then the homes become farther apart and we hear only birds. There was the familiar sound...the coo of the mourning dove with her nest high in some jade-green tree, this was followed by the cry of a Blue-jay taunting other birds by imitating the call of the Red-Tailed Hawk, and later, somewhere a sweet and tentative song of the Scarlet Tanager that is rarely seen in the deep green shadows. 

It is the perfect time of the year when spring is leaving but summer has not arrived with the heat and humidity. The only minor annoyance is the few small "no-see-ums" that land and bite and get mashed by my hand if we get too close to shore.

We move in on the territory of two mallards looking for food.  They seemed to disappear and reappear as they eased in and out of the shadows.

They were a reminder of the nest of Mallard eggs that had been eaten in my flower garden last year.  I wondered if these were the same parents.

We paddled on...hubby paddles 80% as I have a camera in hand and a canoe does not require much effort to move when there are no boat wakes to turn into at rapid speed.  There are several old duck blinds in this area that are no longer in use and that may be why the Mallards feel safer.

Hubby had taken the canoe here by himself just a day ago and came upon some crazy carp orgy.  They were splashing and even bumping into the canoe.  They must have worn themselves out, as they were just quietly hanging in mid-water under patches of grasses as we cruised on by on this day.

The air smelled clean and even though the waters look green the smell of the water was pure and fresh as well.

The blackbirds were perching on grasses which is their common behavior. This one below is a juvenile perched on the seed stalks of the rose mallow.

We were enjoying the lower angles of the sun and the calmness of the wildlife away from the noise of mankind. It was a perfect afternoon, but we knew we had to start our paddle back home, and as if giving us a parting gift, the marsh showed us the beginning and the peak blossoms of the mountain laurel with their almost pre-historic flower structure.  They grow in poor soils along steep terrain proving their tenacity to weather it all.

We felt restored as we headed back into the land of the crazy.  

What Do You Do When All The Chores Are Done?

It rained most of the night, heavily and with welcome liquid for the spring plants. I had finished the last of my chores and took the camera for an early morning walk.  I did not go far before the jewelry left behind caught my eye.

Creative Desert and Too Much Dessert

I have been gardening a good part of every day, but the cold weather has kept me indoors more than I would like. I seem to have less patience with everything these days and that includes the lack of perfection in the weather. My Iris is now in bloom and I have been spending the rest of the time curled up in my corner of an office and doing lots of photoshopping and creating filters, etc. from the many photos I take---my version of Thoreau.  Anyway, put on your favorite music and take a look at my digital paintings (if you are a purist photographer...go get a glass of water).

Passive Aggressive?

A year or more ago a Blogger read one of my posts on the Bluebird in my yard and recommended that I read a book titled "The Bluebird Effect: Uncommon Bonds with Uncommon Birds." It has artful illustrations and is the story of a woman and her relationship with a bluebird that she saved and released.  It is a lovely and gentle read if you have a short booklist and want to add it.

I have a friend that maintains two Bluebird trails (the Eastern Bluebird) and has great success with the boxes she builds and installs along meadows and along woodland edges and near golf courses.  She posts their nests and the young who are a blue-gray with gaping mouths on Facebook.

My experience has been that Bluebirds have unique and individual personalities. Years ago when one nested in a box near my rose arbor I used to get all kinds of acrobatic judo attacks with the snapping of wings and angry chirping just a foot from my head. This year I have a Bluebird couple nesting in that same box, but he (female may be on eggs) flees the minute I cross the lawn. He perches on the outer edge of a large tulip across from the driveway and tweets incessantly but melodiously as I weed in that flower bed. He is clearly distressed but not brave enough to dive over my head. Is he younger and timider? Is he older and wiser? Is it just a less aggressive personality he has? He sure is pretty when he doesn't know I am watching behind a window.

A Fairy Garden?

Years ago I planted a mixture of Columbine flower seeds. I remembered the wild Columbine that greeted late spring in Colorado where I grew up. That made me want something similar in my beds. Little did I realize sprinkling a few mixed seeds from a seed packet would produce dancing fairies in spring. And do they dance!! They jump flower beds, jump garden beds, and show up almost anywhere. 

They are not invasive and allow other flowers or plants to take over when they are done. They are sexually promiscuous and allow the bees to transfer all their traits to mix with their columbine friends and you get such a lovely assortment of flowers over a two week period. They are vagabonds, as I have found them in my back yard over 100 feet away and behind the house! I took just a few photos for you to see how precious these fairies are. I imagine them discussing ballgown colors and how many layers of frill and silk to wear while they are awaiting their entrance!