Naturally

Temperature climbed to 69 degrees F.
Birds were singing and showing off instead of eating at the bird feeder.
Dirt was soft and beckoned to be caressed by hands.
A few brave souls lifted their violet delicate heads.

Plans for trimming and pruning were made.
Budgets for repair projects were listed.
Rocks were pulled away from green peaking tips of tulips in the pots
Resting easy in their beds that night.

Then the next morning with the sky still shaking flakes to earth,
this is what greeted my eyes.
Coffee in hand it was truly a beautiful if exhausting scene.
Poor little tulips buried somewhere in that thick cotton blanket.

Clinging to hope for change
and being proactive with spring plans.
Once again a natural change dampens our activity.

Thrushing and Thrashing

This is the first year that I have been able to see both the wood thrush (Hylocichla mustelina) and the brown thrasher (Toxostoma rufum) up close and often.  Therefore, I can actually now see the differences between the two which are substantial!  Both are similar in coloring and habitat, but that is where the similarity ends.

The thrasher has yellow and piercing eyes that go with the edginess of his name.  He is much larger and intimidates almost all the birds that come to my feeders.  The thrush has large and soft brown eyes and a smaller but sharper piercing bill.  He is much smaller in size.  Regarding coloring, the thrasher has more a more spotted breast while the thrush has streaks starting at the neck.

Both birds are great at pooping the in the water or feeder dish, though.  You can tell they are used to eating on the ground!

Below some up close and personal photos, taken through a window, of course, so not as sharp as in the wild!

At Least...

Well I know that the weather has turned when these begin blooming. Yes, they are indoors and not outside, but they do fill the house with promise and I do like red!

Those Things Small in Size But Big in Spirit

Today is a day to share the little things in life.  The quick and the delicate.  The strong in spirit with their scolding as they hang out at the edge of the woods.  The little ones who see things in black and white and gray and have no need to flash some bright color to draw the eye.

Four Letter Word

This the season of dry skin and wet eyes.  Frizzy hair and drippy nose.  Sigh...

Yes a picture is worth a thousand words.  Below four pictures worth one four-letter word.  COLD!

Black is the New Multi-Colored

I am thinking I may have to sell some stock if I want to continue feeding my feathered friends and this is why...I have been invaded for the last few days.  They are noisy and messy and really piggy.

Both grackles and red-wing black birds.

I now need to go shopping for sunflower seeds.

Something Is MIssing

I had noticed as the days lengthen and morning arrives just a little earlier that there was something missing in my life.  For two days I could not put my finger on it wondering if perhaps I was coming down with something.  Maybe I was missing a vitamin?  There was some emptiness that I just could not figure out.  March, while not spring, is usually energizing with its dramatic changes and promise of departure, so why did I feel oddly out of kilter?

Later I took a walk around the yard to collect what the wind had blown hither and yon and, as I passed our pull-behind vinyl tube, I saw that the float had tipped over and was upright and the center where the grandkids sit had filled with rain water.  It was like a kiddie swim pool and as I looked closer I saw some dark piece of wood(?) floating on the surface.  I reached in, and as I touched it, I immediately discovered what it was.

Sorry for such a sad sight...hope you have had your coffee!

It felt so soft and smooth like the richest velvet I had ever touched, and of course was weightless.  This little Carolina wren had fallen into the 'pool' perhaps trying to get a drink or perhaps flung in by the strong winds.

I then realized what had been missing from my mornings was his cadenza.  The brave and lyrical music that he sang each morning had not been there.  His/her mate, if there was one, was not around either.  Perhaps she/he was too sad to sing and had flown back into the woods to mourn.  According to zoomusicologist (yes this is a field of study!), Emily Doolittle (don't you love that name?), when measuring frequencies of a wren's song she discovered they are, "singing octaves [an interval spanning eight notes] more often, it was singing perfect fifth and perfect fourths.  Those are the three perfect intervals in Western musical theory...they're actually the simplest interval ratios in sound, and there's probably a shared physical and biological reason why people and birds gravitate towards them."  She went on to share that the wren's range is closer to ranges humans are used to hearing in music and it sings more slowly.  I must admit that she was talking about the musician wren of South America which you can hear here.  I think my Carolina wren is certainly just as lovely!  You can hear him/her here.

While hoping that this spring's orchestra will not be missing its loudest diva singer, I looked toward the bird bath two days later and saw this little one and sighed knowing he/she will find a mate in the spring.

Visitors

The "dozenth" snow storm to hit this area came in yesterday.  It was so amazing.  Mother nature sent her loveliest luminaries almost as if she knew we were so weary of the white stuff.  It was one of those snow storms that have been described as pillow fights by the gods.  I could almost hear them giggling.

Wet, sloppy, enormous flakes of frozen water drifted down.  They were like cold wet kisses.  For hours it melted as it hit the warm floor of the woods, but after a bit, it finally began to cover everything making it smooth and clean.  Woods are very messy and it is nice to see their rooms get tidied every once in a while.

 
When I looked closer I could see that the flakes were like luminescent stars that had fallen from heaven and in their final dance to earth they grabbed each others "hands" and whirled about and about.  I could not get a good close up since I was a bit cold, but below I will give a dream of what I saw.

At the very top of the photo above you can see stars dancing.

And while the snow was lovely, it also was a very polite guest and did not overstay its welcome.  By sunset all the white quilt was gone!

UNTIL this morning as I made my coffee and looking out the window saw that there is now one of those icy little snows that have left over an inch of crusty cold stuff EVERYWHERE!  Winter's little bully brother has now come to visit!

Changes

As Hilary corrected me (in her most gentle fashion) the bird in the post two posts ago is a reddish heron and not a small blue heron.  I had heard about this bird many years ago and forgotten all about it.  It is white as an adult...sometimes.

Below two birds that I have been having fun photo-painting and trying to camouflage their ID!

Weather or Not

"Everybody talks about the weather but no one does anything about it."  Charles Dudley Warner (?) stolen by Mark Twain (?).

The big blue whirling planet must have flicked a wrist in one of its daily pirouettes this week and the winds changed direction just enough that the air warmed into the high 60s melting what was left of the squashy snow against the base of the trees and the gray and silver ice that had frozen on the river.  It was almost as if winter had bid goodbye with the setting sun.

The next morning I had rushed to open the windows and let in the fresh air before heading out on errands on a day that only required wearing a sweater.  The sun darted in and out of cloud cover and the wind whipped up old dry leaves and there was a lightness in everyone's step in the supermarket after having been home bound for days.  In the river the buffle heads were back and the Canadian geese had returned the night before.

Of course,  " Breaking up is hard to do. " Neil Sedaka sings.

The winter does not depart without argument and thrashing and screaming and smashing of branches and tossing of furniture like a woman scorned.  Winter hangs on refusing to leave the stage even when pushed away by warmer giggling winds.  Winter hides backstage for a short time tossing rain and  messing with the sound man and flashing light.

There was a tornado warning as I arrived back in my driveway and I rushed to close windows and watch the radar.  Winter was no longer a cool blue on the screen but an angry red and I could hear winter groaning and thundering before roaring into 60 mile an hour winds and driving back against an early departure.  The rain came like hard bullets against the windows and the skylights.  Winter flung 2 inch tree limbs against the side of the house and tipped over the table on the deck in irs fury.

 

It will be peaceful and warm tomorrow, but I am told winter is coming back in full force next week.  Such a Prima Donna is this season, but to be fair it is not even March!

(Oh, the bird in the prior post with the hair-do was lifting his crown to intimidate.  I understand they sometimes do this for sex appeal.  He was a little blue reddish heron.)

Attitude

Success in this life requires being in the right place at the right time and having a little luck.  But we must also give credit for powers of observation.

"Hmmm, wonder what this is all about?"

It does not hurt to have the killer hairdo thing going on.  Throws everyone off their pace and makes them watch you instead of something else.  Give them that intimidating as hell look.

Do not be afraid to jump on it when the opportunity is clear.  Let the others keep their dignity and grace.  You know what rewards dignity and grace give.

And, thus, to the victors go the spoils!!

(Yes, it was bait thrown aside by a fisherman, but food is food even if not as fresh as one is used to.  And as Hilary has corrected me, this is a reddish heron.)

Do You Smell That?

Finally the weather has broken for those of us in the more southern east!!  The river has been frozen for over a month...but with today's above 40 temperatures and the beautiful sun I will put on my camouflage uniform, snow boots and cap and head down to the dock.

I hear water dripping and running everywhere.  It is as if the plumbing has broken in earth's bathroom.  The river is still frozen, but thawing as I watch!  I feel as if at least one surreal photo is in order:

 

Or maybe not...maybe I am ready to face reality.  Wow, that air smells just like the air smells on the top of a snowy mountain.  It is pure and clean and makes me high.  The breeze is cool but gentle as it fingers my gray hair.  I look up and as if someone felt I deserved a little surprise, there not too far over my head glides a bald eagle enjoying the warmer weather.  (He was too acrobatic for a photo, but you can place him and his marvelous air dance in your mind's eye.)

 

Far out toward the creek where it joins the river I can actually see blue water!  That ice in the foreground is too thin to walk on, so it will be thawed by sunset today.

Can spring be too far behind?