This is just a tee-niney post this morning, but noteworthy, in my humble opinion.
First, I have definitely found the robins' nest! As I pulled into the driveway this morning after taking Sam to preschool I glanced up in that part of the dogwood where the pair keep congregating, and I saw a messy clump of something, a robin's head, and a beady eye making sure I didn't stray off the driveway and come up in the tree. Eureka! Mama's on the nest. I have to say, it wasn't a very pretty-looking nest...but it was a nest. Awesome. We have been graced by robins.
Second, as I was eating breakfast this morning, I looked out the window and there was a sparrow perched on the deck rail, looking in at me. This cheeky little thing stared boldly at me, as if to say, "What on earth are you doing? Don't you know all the good bugs are out here?" And then it flew away, apparently disgusted by my lack of good sense.
Have birds always been like this, and I've just been too busy to notice? They are such fun to watch. I'm getting involved in the lives of little no-account birds, and I love it. Now you all can say that I am officially a bird-brain, I guess. Have at it! Enjoy. : )
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
A Morning At My Window
I've been up since about 4:45 this morning; I don't know why I'm always waking up just before everyone's alarm clocks start going off. It's like I'm a masochist or something. Let's shorten a perfectly good night's sleep even more! Woo-hoo!
Well, instead of fighting it this morning I got up, read a little, surprised the heck out of SM and Sophie when they got up, had a bagel and some juice, and settled down by my bedroom's alcove window to watch Sophie go to her bus stop.
It's been raining through the night. Not a long, hard slog, no giant storms...just a few minutes of rain here and there that make you wonder, "Is that it? Any more coming?" So when I looked out the window this morning everything was soft, wet, and green. It was like that on my wedding day. If you can imagine such a thing, it was a beautiful rain that day. When we left the reception the rain was coming down so gently and prettily, and I don't think I've ever seen green look more green in my life. Birds looked silver in the sky and the clouds were like something Rembrandt might have painted. It was impossibly beautiful. That's the way it is this morning.
I've mentioned before that there are two trees just outside my window: a dogwood and something as yet unidentified, but bigger than the dogwood. Also, there are two robins that, I am convinced, have a nest somewhere in our yard, but I can't find it yet. As I settled in my chair and looked out the window to see what the morning looked like, I saw the robins, hard at it, pecking at the yard. Actually, there were birds all over the place, but the little sparrows and wrens blend in so beautifully with our dead grass that you can't see them until they move. Our lawn looks like living art, it's moving in little hops and short flights.
It started raining again for a few minutes; most of the birds flew for shelter in our two trees, which have such leafy canopies that surely any bird hiding in there will stay bone-dry. But the robins never slowed down and never flew for cover. They kept pecking and scratching, holding their heads to one side as though listening for noisy worms to announce their presence. A little rain won't stop them.
They keep flying back to that one spot in the dogwood but every day I look, and there's nothing there.
We've been hard at work lately, trying to improve the house and yard. We discovered our property has an irrigation system and we tested it last night (just in time for the rain). We've chiseled tile off a kitchen table, put up wallpaper borders, installed curtain rods, painted, and a host of other back-breaking tasks. We kind of miss renting right about now. But the house is coming together and getting a look, if you know what I mean, even if it is wearing us out. So yesterday when SM and I heard that a rainstorm was forecasted that afternoon, we thankfully sank into our Sunday naps, because nothing is better than a stormy Sunday afternoon nap. I mean nothing. Unless, of course, it's a stormy Sunday afternoon nap under a metal roof. That's the ultimate. The rain brought some peace to the house. The drumming on the roof seemed to drug us, kind of like those jails that are painted pink so the inmates calm down. Our sleep last night was deep, hard, and peaceful. So you understand now the state of mind I was in this morning when I looked out on my front yard, wet and green and alive with busy, chirping birds. I watched Sophie walk to the end of the driveway, wearing her turquoise raincoat and holding her umbrella, and she turned around, waved, and blew me a kiss before looking both ways and crossing the road. That's our morning ritual. I waved back, blew a kiss, and settled in the chair to watch the morning wake up.
Now I know why I haven't found the robins' nest yet. They're still building it. Something large and white just fluttered to the ground under the dogwood, and one of the robins just swooped down after it, picked it up in its beak, and flew back to the same spot in the tree as before. I watch for a moment, and down it flutters again, robin in hot pursuit. Four times that white something falls, and four times it is retrieved by a robin and stuffed in the same spot in the tree. It must be a really important part of the nest for them to feel that strongly about it. I looked up in there the other day and saw our guinea pigs' bedding all over the tree. We don't just throw the stuff in the back yard when we clean the cage, but we do hose down the cage out there, and some bits and pieces of bedding have obviously landed in the yard and been found by these robins. Now the bedding decorates our dogwood. I don't know whether or not they have finalized on a decision about it, though. It's like when we come home from Lowe's and tape paint chips all over a wall, trying to decide which color works best. That's what they've done to the dogwood: hung various nesting materials everywhere, possibly in an effort to rate them and make the most informed choice. Smart birds, these robins. Messy, but smart.
I swear I can smell my lawn. The smell of rain coupled with the smell of clean dirt and opening flowers. The humid air easily carries the sounds of flapping birds' wings as they sail past my window. One branch is less than 10 feet from me, and if I sit still and make no sound, birds sit up in there all the time, doing whatever it is birds do, completely unaware of me. I feel like I'm looking through a periscope onto what the Garden of Eden must have looked like (except for the dying grass). It's just so precious and peaceful and I feel privileged.
I know I'm rambling but it's magical to me and I wanted to share it with you.
Well, instead of fighting it this morning I got up, read a little, surprised the heck out of SM and Sophie when they got up, had a bagel and some juice, and settled down by my bedroom's alcove window to watch Sophie go to her bus stop.
It's been raining through the night. Not a long, hard slog, no giant storms...just a few minutes of rain here and there that make you wonder, "Is that it? Any more coming?" So when I looked out the window this morning everything was soft, wet, and green. It was like that on my wedding day. If you can imagine such a thing, it was a beautiful rain that day. When we left the reception the rain was coming down so gently and prettily, and I don't think I've ever seen green look more green in my life. Birds looked silver in the sky and the clouds were like something Rembrandt might have painted. It was impossibly beautiful. That's the way it is this morning.
I've mentioned before that there are two trees just outside my window: a dogwood and something as yet unidentified, but bigger than the dogwood. Also, there are two robins that, I am convinced, have a nest somewhere in our yard, but I can't find it yet. As I settled in my chair and looked out the window to see what the morning looked like, I saw the robins, hard at it, pecking at the yard. Actually, there were birds all over the place, but the little sparrows and wrens blend in so beautifully with our dead grass that you can't see them until they move. Our lawn looks like living art, it's moving in little hops and short flights.
It started raining again for a few minutes; most of the birds flew for shelter in our two trees, which have such leafy canopies that surely any bird hiding in there will stay bone-dry. But the robins never slowed down and never flew for cover. They kept pecking and scratching, holding their heads to one side as though listening for noisy worms to announce their presence. A little rain won't stop them.
They keep flying back to that one spot in the dogwood but every day I look, and there's nothing there.
We've been hard at work lately, trying to improve the house and yard. We discovered our property has an irrigation system and we tested it last night (just in time for the rain). We've chiseled tile off a kitchen table, put up wallpaper borders, installed curtain rods, painted, and a host of other back-breaking tasks. We kind of miss renting right about now. But the house is coming together and getting a look, if you know what I mean, even if it is wearing us out. So yesterday when SM and I heard that a rainstorm was forecasted that afternoon, we thankfully sank into our Sunday naps, because nothing is better than a stormy Sunday afternoon nap. I mean nothing. Unless, of course, it's a stormy Sunday afternoon nap under a metal roof. That's the ultimate. The rain brought some peace to the house. The drumming on the roof seemed to drug us, kind of like those jails that are painted pink so the inmates calm down. Our sleep last night was deep, hard, and peaceful. So you understand now the state of mind I was in this morning when I looked out on my front yard, wet and green and alive with busy, chirping birds. I watched Sophie walk to the end of the driveway, wearing her turquoise raincoat and holding her umbrella, and she turned around, waved, and blew me a kiss before looking both ways and crossing the road. That's our morning ritual. I waved back, blew a kiss, and settled in the chair to watch the morning wake up.
Now I know why I haven't found the robins' nest yet. They're still building it. Something large and white just fluttered to the ground under the dogwood, and one of the robins just swooped down after it, picked it up in its beak, and flew back to the same spot in the tree as before. I watch for a moment, and down it flutters again, robin in hot pursuit. Four times that white something falls, and four times it is retrieved by a robin and stuffed in the same spot in the tree. It must be a really important part of the nest for them to feel that strongly about it. I looked up in there the other day and saw our guinea pigs' bedding all over the tree. We don't just throw the stuff in the back yard when we clean the cage, but we do hose down the cage out there, and some bits and pieces of bedding have obviously landed in the yard and been found by these robins. Now the bedding decorates our dogwood. I don't know whether or not they have finalized on a decision about it, though. It's like when we come home from Lowe's and tape paint chips all over a wall, trying to decide which color works best. That's what they've done to the dogwood: hung various nesting materials everywhere, possibly in an effort to rate them and make the most informed choice. Smart birds, these robins. Messy, but smart.
I swear I can smell my lawn. The smell of rain coupled with the smell of clean dirt and opening flowers. The humid air easily carries the sounds of flapping birds' wings as they sail past my window. One branch is less than 10 feet from me, and if I sit still and make no sound, birds sit up in there all the time, doing whatever it is birds do, completely unaware of me. I feel like I'm looking through a periscope onto what the Garden of Eden must have looked like (except for the dying grass). It's just so precious and peaceful and I feel privileged.
I know I'm rambling but it's magical to me and I wanted to share it with you.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
One Flew Over...Something...Somewhere
As many of you know, Sophie went from homeschooling to public school this year, back in February. That was a very gut-wrenching decision for us. Well, OK, for me. She was thrilled to be trying something new. I, on the other hand, have not handled it so well. I've tried. Lord knows I've tried. I am happy for her, supportive of her, attentive to her change in circumstances, and always rooting for her. (I am also doing Lamaze when no one's looking to keep the pain at bay, but that's another story.) One of the things Sophie was desperate to try was riding the school bus. Heaven only knows what she finds so glamorous about riding a school bus, but she does. Bottom line. So I found out that her bus stop is a few houses away, barely visible from my vantage point. Speaking of vantage points: I knew good and well that accompanying her to the bus stop was strictly out of the question. That falls under over-protective to an embarrassing degree, and I knew better than to suggest it. I held firm to standing on the front steps, however, and I wouldn't go back inside until the bus came, the kids loaded on, and the bus drove away. In February, as we all know, it's pitch black at 6:25 a.m. and I felt perfectly justified in letting my presence be known, in all my turquoise-terry-robe-covered glory. I wanted passersby to see that I meant business, no one was going to mess with my kid at the bus stop. I was a safe, responsible parent. Then it got lighter and lighter in the mornings and I started to feel a little silly. Responsible is one things. Showing people exactly what I look like in the light at 6:25 a.m. is another. So I began watching Sophie from my bedroom window. We have a little alcove off our room, just above the front door, and I could see her beautifully almost all the way to the bus stop. There are three other kids with her in the mornings, all boys, and although I knew two of them pretty well and they think of her as a sister, still....
Well, then the time change happened. Back in darkness. I stayed in my little alcove, though. I guess the bus driver thought I'd finally given up and joined the ranks of millions of parents who stay in bed while their precious first-born wanders into the darkness alone, surrounded by God only knows what dangers. (Whoa, steady...steady...) Trying not to hyperventilate. So I still kept watch over her. And then spring came.
We have two trees in our front yard, a dogwood and a huge Bradford pear. Vile smelling thing it is, too, that Bradford. Anyway, when that thing bloomed it completely blocked my view of Sophie as she crossed the street and ventured out into the world. Now, this was not something I'd reckoned on. I'd sort of forgotten about that whole blooming-in-the-spring thing. All I could see of Sophie now was her crossing the lawn and stopping at the edge of the road to look both ways. From there she vanished behind a *&^%$ green curtain. I would stay at the window, opened wide and my face pressed against the screen, listening for any possible sounds of trouble from, oh, say, 50 yards [pointing] thataway.
It's weary work, being this vigilant. Or maybe anal is a better word for it. Over-protective, paranoid, anal worrier are other good words. And then when the bus pulls away with my heart riding somewhere on it, I say a deeply-felt prayer for her protection and success in the day. And THEN I go back to bed. Not surprisingly, it's hard to go back to sleep.
The last couple of mornings while I waited for Sophie's bus to arrive I've noticed what I think are the same two birds on our lawn. They are robins, and we must have some pretty tasty worms in our yard because those birds get BUSY. And they always fly up into the dogwood. I think they must be setting up a nest in there somewhere. They wander into other yards occasionally but they always come back, pick a few bugs here and there, and then back they go into the dogwood. I looked up in there today and saw a few places where they'd obviously tested the engineering soundness and feasibility and found them lacking. Bits of fuzz, string, and other assortments hung here and there like a poor man's Christmas tree. Maybe they're newlyweds and don't know any better. (Been there, done that.) Hopefully they will keep at it until some nice branch meets their standards. As I watched these birds work themselves into an early grave, I thought about their chicks that would surely come sooner or later, and how they would learn to fly. I thought about Sophie flying this year as she's met a whole bucketful of new challenges. Granted, it's not like I threw her out on the streets, but you have to admit, her little world has turned upside down in the last few months. We've moved, she left me and went into a school where I figure very little, she has different teachers, a different schedule, different friends, etc. She's learning new things, and she jumped a whole year ahead in math. And she made the B Honor Roll this past quarter. I think it's pretty clear that she is flying. I know this would have happened sooner or later, but I just didn't think it would be this soon. What makes it worthwhile, what keeps me from thinking this has all been a horrible mistake, is the look on her face. She is happy. She is proud of herself. She is productive and learning independence. She's doing exactly what she was meant to do. And I guess that's what makes birds fly.
Well, then the time change happened. Back in darkness. I stayed in my little alcove, though. I guess the bus driver thought I'd finally given up and joined the ranks of millions of parents who stay in bed while their precious first-born wanders into the darkness alone, surrounded by God only knows what dangers. (Whoa, steady...steady...) Trying not to hyperventilate. So I still kept watch over her. And then spring came.
We have two trees in our front yard, a dogwood and a huge Bradford pear. Vile smelling thing it is, too, that Bradford. Anyway, when that thing bloomed it completely blocked my view of Sophie as she crossed the street and ventured out into the world. Now, this was not something I'd reckoned on. I'd sort of forgotten about that whole blooming-in-the-spring thing. All I could see of Sophie now was her crossing the lawn and stopping at the edge of the road to look both ways. From there she vanished behind a *&^%$ green curtain. I would stay at the window, opened wide and my face pressed against the screen, listening for any possible sounds of trouble from, oh, say, 50 yards [pointing] thataway.
It's weary work, being this vigilant. Or maybe anal is a better word for it. Over-protective, paranoid, anal worrier are other good words. And then when the bus pulls away with my heart riding somewhere on it, I say a deeply-felt prayer for her protection and success in the day. And THEN I go back to bed. Not surprisingly, it's hard to go back to sleep.
The last couple of mornings while I waited for Sophie's bus to arrive I've noticed what I think are the same two birds on our lawn. They are robins, and we must have some pretty tasty worms in our yard because those birds get BUSY. And they always fly up into the dogwood. I think they must be setting up a nest in there somewhere. They wander into other yards occasionally but they always come back, pick a few bugs here and there, and then back they go into the dogwood. I looked up in there today and saw a few places where they'd obviously tested the engineering soundness and feasibility and found them lacking. Bits of fuzz, string, and other assortments hung here and there like a poor man's Christmas tree. Maybe they're newlyweds and don't know any better. (Been there, done that.) Hopefully they will keep at it until some nice branch meets their standards. As I watched these birds work themselves into an early grave, I thought about their chicks that would surely come sooner or later, and how they would learn to fly. I thought about Sophie flying this year as she's met a whole bucketful of new challenges. Granted, it's not like I threw her out on the streets, but you have to admit, her little world has turned upside down in the last few months. We've moved, she left me and went into a school where I figure very little, she has different teachers, a different schedule, different friends, etc. She's learning new things, and she jumped a whole year ahead in math. And she made the B Honor Roll this past quarter. I think it's pretty clear that she is flying. I know this would have happened sooner or later, but I just didn't think it would be this soon. What makes it worthwhile, what keeps me from thinking this has all been a horrible mistake, is the look on her face. She is happy. She is proud of herself. She is productive and learning independence. She's doing exactly what she was meant to do. And I guess that's what makes birds fly.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
There It Goes, I've Lost It Again
Name me one other person you know who's lost an iron. Can't think of one? Well, I've done it.
In my lifetime, I've lost an iron, a makeup brush, two bras, two plates, a baby book (mine), and a set of drapes.
Not once have I ever lost my keys or my cell phone. Of course, now that I've jinxed myself...
Perhaps it started early, when I was little. I remember Mom searching the house high and low for her good spoons, which I had thoughtfully buried in the back yard, for reasons I can no longer remember. I do remember, though, that they made terrific little shovels for tiny toddler hands.
I don't lose the normal things. I lose weird things. I once lost about 6 pair of underwear that were misfiled in the wrong drawer under some nightgowns. I wondered why I was washing my underclothes so much more frequently. Took me a month before I found them.
I think I know what happened to the two missing plates (Sam got used to the idea of throwing away his paper plates after meals, and we messed up by giving him REAL plates, so...draw your own conclusion. I am sure that somewhere up in Heaven Mom is laughing her butt off - "Serves you right!"). However, I have absolutely no idea, no clue at all, what ever happened to my iron. Note that I did not lose my ironing board...just the iron. Go figure.
Since we've moved we've lost a bunch of DVD's. Not the plastic jackets. Just the DVD's.
Maybe I just have the "Lose Me" aura, because the night before our wedding SM lost my wedding ring. I held off killing him because I wasn't yet his benficiary. Luckily, before a legal ruling was required, he found the ring. All was well. In hindsight, it was probably a providential blessing that he learned so early how much attention a wife pays to her husband's life insurance.
On the flip side, I come across little treasures occasionally that I never even realized I had. When Dad moved from Summerville to NC he invited me to go through some thing that he thought belonged to me, in case I wanted to move them to my house. I took some boxes and went through them only after he moved (a clever strategy, in case he had something really good stashed in there). I found a huge number of old pictures. I found my mother's high school graduation photo. Ah, the days when the only things pierced were ears...kids then looked like adults by the time they were 14. I was struck by how much Sophie looked like Mom. Then I found a picture of Mom when she was just a toddler. She was holding a silver ball, and she wore a small heart locket necklace and a silver bracelet. With a start, I realized that Katherine and I still have that necklace and bracelet. I rifled through some more pictures. There was a small picture of my mom and her twin, Aunt Nancy, in a pram. And then, wonder of wonders, I found a picture of Grandma when she was maybe 8 or 9 years old. I found a picture of what I think was a favorite teacher. It was an old-fashioned sepia print, and the teacher wore her hair high in a bun, with a high-necked blouse and a small round watch pinned to it. The image was a soft oval that faded to nothing towards the edges. It looked like something straight out of "Little House On the Prairie". This teacher would have taught out of a primer. She probably taught more than one grade in a class. America - the world - was a completely different place then.
Then I came across a wedding portrait of people I'd never seen before. I don't have the foggiest idea who they are - there is no note on the back - but this has to be the unhappiest couple I've ever seen. I guess "smile for the birdie" hadn't been invented yet. The bride was, I'm sorry to say, the ugliest thing on two legs (which accounts for the groom's expression) and she looked deeply disapproving of the whole notion of weddings or photographs, maybe both. Bet that honeymoon was a barrel of laughs.
The other day I found some sliced ham in the freezer that I'd forgotten about. When I was sick several weeks ago I found the remote in the pantry. I thought I was hallucinating, but it was real. So I guess for every weird thing I lose, I find something weird, too. It is our Yin and Yang. hahahahaha!
In my lifetime, I've lost an iron, a makeup brush, two bras, two plates, a baby book (mine), and a set of drapes.
Not once have I ever lost my keys or my cell phone. Of course, now that I've jinxed myself...
Perhaps it started early, when I was little. I remember Mom searching the house high and low for her good spoons, which I had thoughtfully buried in the back yard, for reasons I can no longer remember. I do remember, though, that they made terrific little shovels for tiny toddler hands.
I don't lose the normal things. I lose weird things. I once lost about 6 pair of underwear that were misfiled in the wrong drawer under some nightgowns. I wondered why I was washing my underclothes so much more frequently. Took me a month before I found them.
I think I know what happened to the two missing plates (Sam got used to the idea of throwing away his paper plates after meals, and we messed up by giving him REAL plates, so...draw your own conclusion. I am sure that somewhere up in Heaven Mom is laughing her butt off - "Serves you right!"). However, I have absolutely no idea, no clue at all, what ever happened to my iron. Note that I did not lose my ironing board...just the iron. Go figure.
Since we've moved we've lost a bunch of DVD's. Not the plastic jackets. Just the DVD's.
Maybe I just have the "Lose Me" aura, because the night before our wedding SM lost my wedding ring. I held off killing him because I wasn't yet his benficiary. Luckily, before a legal ruling was required, he found the ring. All was well. In hindsight, it was probably a providential blessing that he learned so early how much attention a wife pays to her husband's life insurance.
On the flip side, I come across little treasures occasionally that I never even realized I had. When Dad moved from Summerville to NC he invited me to go through some thing that he thought belonged to me, in case I wanted to move them to my house. I took some boxes and went through them only after he moved (a clever strategy, in case he had something really good stashed in there). I found a huge number of old pictures. I found my mother's high school graduation photo. Ah, the days when the only things pierced were ears...kids then looked like adults by the time they were 14. I was struck by how much Sophie looked like Mom. Then I found a picture of Mom when she was just a toddler. She was holding a silver ball, and she wore a small heart locket necklace and a silver bracelet. With a start, I realized that Katherine and I still have that necklace and bracelet. I rifled through some more pictures. There was a small picture of my mom and her twin, Aunt Nancy, in a pram. And then, wonder of wonders, I found a picture of Grandma when she was maybe 8 or 9 years old. I found a picture of what I think was a favorite teacher. It was an old-fashioned sepia print, and the teacher wore her hair high in a bun, with a high-necked blouse and a small round watch pinned to it. The image was a soft oval that faded to nothing towards the edges. It looked like something straight out of "Little House On the Prairie". This teacher would have taught out of a primer. She probably taught more than one grade in a class. America - the world - was a completely different place then.
Then I came across a wedding portrait of people I'd never seen before. I don't have the foggiest idea who they are - there is no note on the back - but this has to be the unhappiest couple I've ever seen. I guess "smile for the birdie" hadn't been invented yet. The bride was, I'm sorry to say, the ugliest thing on two legs (which accounts for the groom's expression) and she looked deeply disapproving of the whole notion of weddings or photographs, maybe both. Bet that honeymoon was a barrel of laughs.
The other day I found some sliced ham in the freezer that I'd forgotten about. When I was sick several weeks ago I found the remote in the pantry. I thought I was hallucinating, but it was real. So I guess for every weird thing I lose, I find something weird, too. It is our Yin and Yang. hahahahaha!
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