Brand New Day

Spicebush Swallowtails in Love

The past couple of mornings I've waken up to the repeated high pitched call of a single large bird. That's an assumption of course because I cannot see the bird but can indeed hear its single, shrill, loud, sharp ear-splitting call over and over and over for about 30 minutes. Two mornings in a row in the pre-dawn gloom, the only light in the room filtering in gray and flat through the blinds, and this single-minded vocalization reverberating through the skies.

So I lie there and listen until the song is finished. Afterwards, I rise as the other birds begin nervous twitterings.

Yesterday, I watched two nuthatches clamber up and down a tree in my front yard.

There are dirt fairy circles in the yard. Perfect circles made in the dry earth by some creature, about the size of a frisbee. I've no explanation.

The cardinals are feeding in the backyard. Squirrels are gathering nuts.

One early evening I saw bats flying. I adore bats. Lord knows we've enough mosquitoes to keep them happy.

There are entirely too many chipmunks here. They dig up my flower pots and scurry across the patio driving Baylee wild.

I've seen butterflies galore. The spicebush swallowtails above, a red spotted purple, hackberry emperors and scads of sulphers looking for all the world like pats of butter.

Soon, I'll begin fitting the backyard with bird-attracting feeders and a birdbath. Wouldn't a fire pit be fun to have on the patio? Time to embrace this place as we'll be here for a while. It's not a bad place it's just not my place, but for the time being it is the perfect place for us to heal and be. Nature is all around me, even in the city limits. I must be still and open my eyes and heart.

Finding ones bliss by accepting things as they are, then "bloom where (one) is planted," seems key to happiness. Enjoy the transition of the seasons.

Snow Day

Goldfinch

March roared in like a lion - literally! Local weather prognosticators were predicting a Winter Storm Warning Saturday evening into Sunday. Yeah, right...like we haven't heard THAT one before. Southerners are not used to winter storms so whenever the weather dudes say SNOW that means run to the store and stock up on toilet paper, milk and bread. Every. Time. Oh, and get a bottle of wine while you're at it, honey. Just in case.

Cardinal

Waking Sunday morning to several inches of pristine white snow covering everything, while large fluffy cotton balls continue to fall for hours ... well ... it was like Christmas in March. We can't drive on the stuff and sure can't walk on it and don't have the right clothing for it, but still... we slipped around and took photos and fed the birds and sat with warm cups of coffee at the windows just watching the show. And what a show it was. A snow show.

Mourning Dove

The birds appreciated the sunflower seeds and thistle and even the crappy cheap seed I had left over from something. A gazillion goldfinches swooped in to gorge themselves and would flit back into the trees when it came time to refill the feeders, looking like little yellow Christmas ornaments in the bare branches.

My northern friends understandably get sick of this stuff and I am positive I would, too, if I had to deal with as often as they. However, here in our neck of the woods the sun was out and the snow was gradually melting by mid-afternoon. There are still icy pockets hither and yon today as the temperatures remain in the 20's. We enjoyed our day of snow fall and bird feeding tremendously. It was the perfect day to just sit and be, read and meditate, or crunch around outside in the wrong shoes getting all wet and cold then coming inside for hot chocolate. It's the stuff that makes memories.

Northern Cardinal

Although the signs of Spring are everywhere winter still blows her icy kisses this weekend. The cardinals and other song birds are all puffed up staying warm in the chill and the bird feeder looks like the lunch rush. I can't keep enough seed out for them - it's gone in an instant, and then they flutter about and cheep loudly and look at the window practically tapping their little feet, probably thinking..."hey in there...where's the grub?" Whenever I'm in a glum mood all I have to do is sit still and watch the birds for a bit and all is better. Their cheerful demeanor reminds me that nothing is important enough to ruffle my feathers. So I sit when I can, take deep breaths, relax, lower my shoulders, watch the birds and do not think at all.