And now the buds emerge ...
They linger on edges
Unable to touch
The gliding raven
Soaring overhead.
They tint the forest
With their palette.
Lime, lemon, rose,
Flavoring the air
With possibility.
They whisper sweet
Promises of hope,
Rebirth,
Longings satisfied,
Unfolding magic.
They embody months
of long darkness.
Snowstorms
and rain alike
Nurtured their growth.
Now they fling themselves
Impatiently,
Recklessly,
With graceful abandon,
Into the light.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Birdy Twirties
I heated sugar and water then filled and hung two hummingbird feeders yesterday morning. To me, that’s a sure sign of spring. The local wisdom: Put feeders out by Mother’s Day and take them down by Labor Day. We haven’t seen any hummers yet, but more winged relations appear daily.
Two days ago we saw our first rose-breasted grosbeaks. The triangle of red on their breasts is eye-catching and the deep black on their heads and backs, handsome. I admit it, I'm a glutton for the colorful flights and songs of spring. Right now I'm impatiently awaiting indigo buntings and baltimore orioles. Our neighbor Florence, who lives seven miles away, sees indigos each evening on the ground under her feeder. Their vibrant blue-violet feathers are gorgeous. I nervously mentioned my desires to Frances several days ago. "Don't worry," she assured me, "We'll see indigo buntings too."
On my way back from the mailbox several evenings ago I sensed a slight movement in the woods. When I stopped to look, I spied a pileated woodpecker climbing a tree trunk. He was shy and kept his body protected from my gaze by climbing the far side of the tree. Pileateds are fabulous creatures, large (19”) with a stunning red crest on their heads.
Our eastern phoebes were some of the first to return home to the woods and they're busily building a nest. They chose to reestablish themselves on the shelf Frances put under the eaves above the kitchen window. The old nest is still there from last year but it looks as though phoebes, like humans, prefer to expand their townhouse and condo developments. The new nest shares a common “wall” with the old.
Last week we had our first black bear visit under the cover of darkness. Our sunflower seed feeder was pulled to the ground and emptied (but not destroyed!). We’re more careful now to bring feeders in before bed and re-hang at morning’s light.
I overheard another patron at the library a month ago say, "Oh, I get so excited by spring ... Doesn't everybody?" Spring IS a glorious time. Birdsong greets me each morning and a delicious variety of birds linger in still-naked tree branches. I live amid a whirlwind of movement and sound: wings flapping, colors flashing, beaks pecking, bills hammering, birds competing for seeds, songs spilling out -- a cornucopia of delight!
Two days ago we saw our first rose-breasted grosbeaks. The triangle of red on their breasts is eye-catching and the deep black on their heads and backs, handsome. I admit it, I'm a glutton for the colorful flights and songs of spring. Right now I'm impatiently awaiting indigo buntings and baltimore orioles. Our neighbor Florence, who lives seven miles away, sees indigos each evening on the ground under her feeder. Their vibrant blue-violet feathers are gorgeous. I nervously mentioned my desires to Frances several days ago. "Don't worry," she assured me, "We'll see indigo buntings too."
On my way back from the mailbox several evenings ago I sensed a slight movement in the woods. When I stopped to look, I spied a pileated woodpecker climbing a tree trunk. He was shy and kept his body protected from my gaze by climbing the far side of the tree. Pileateds are fabulous creatures, large (19”) with a stunning red crest on their heads.
Our eastern phoebes were some of the first to return home to the woods and they're busily building a nest. They chose to reestablish themselves on the shelf Frances put under the eaves above the kitchen window. The old nest is still there from last year but it looks as though phoebes, like humans, prefer to expand their townhouse and condo developments. The new nest shares a common “wall” with the old.
Last week we had our first black bear visit under the cover of darkness. Our sunflower seed feeder was pulled to the ground and emptied (but not destroyed!). We’re more careful now to bring feeders in before bed and re-hang at morning’s light.
I overheard another patron at the library a month ago say, "Oh, I get so excited by spring ... Doesn't everybody?" Spring IS a glorious time. Birdsong greets me each morning and a delicious variety of birds linger in still-naked tree branches. I live amid a whirlwind of movement and sound: wings flapping, colors flashing, beaks pecking, bills hammering, birds competing for seeds, songs spilling out -- a cornucopia of delight!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Woodland Morning
Slow to wake, I rest
in wooded stillness.
Seagulls coo,
aloft
in fields of blue.
Breezes whisper by,
a delicate caress.
Cat tongues his fur,
damp with liquid sun.
Woodpecker taps a rhythm
through bone and sky.
Phoebe
Phoebe
Phoebe
pierces forest air to human heart.
Senses roused
By nature’s grand display.
My spirit buoyant,
ready
for this day ...
in wooded stillness.
Seagulls coo,
aloft
in fields of blue.
Breezes whisper by,
a delicate caress.
Cat tongues his fur,
damp with liquid sun.
Woodpecker taps a rhythm
through bone and sky.
Phoebe
Phoebe
Phoebe
pierces forest air to human heart.
Senses roused
By nature’s grand display.
My spirit buoyant,
ready
for this day ...
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