Mother Nature is Behind Schedule

All of my decorations are packed away and my tree is cleaned of lights and also boxed in the attic. I went out to the front yard this morning and found that Mother Nature was still procrastinating, but I do like the way she has kept the lights on this Japanese maple.

I know that they will probably be gone by tomorrow afternoon, but today I will enjoy.

Illusion

How can something so cold look so warm?

Frozen all the way to the mouth of the river upon our return!  Supposed to be about 3 inches of more snow today, but this early morning does not show that.

The Rampage

Last night the predicted, bitter arctic air left Santa's homeland and savagely battered and whistled outside our door and strained at our windows for hours.  We hide ourselves beneath a soft throw and watched the first episode of Season 4 of Downton Abbey which I had taped earlier.  It wasn't until after the TV was off and we headed to bed that we heard the howling, moaning, and groaning of the angry winter wind.  It was frightening and haunting.  It was all those things that make one think of the death of others and even their own death.  It was the loneliest sound I had ever heard, much worse than the sad nostalgia of that midnight train whistle that drifts aimlessly across an open field. It was Father Death determined to stay and embrace.

Snow had been predicted after midnight, but when I woke, as I sometimes do, at 4:00, the landscape was dry and brittle under my porch light.  I did not open the front door for a more fearless view for concern that I would startle the little wren that lives in the woodpile that we have stacked on the porch.  Sending her out into this wind-sheared night would be certain death for her.

The thermostat said it was a balmy 12 F outside!  They, those weather people who find these dramatic episodes a gleeful part of their career, had predicted 6 F which would have been even colder when multiplied by the added wind chill!  Were they disappointed that they were wrong? Did they 'Aw,shucks' that this had not been accompanied by a blizzard?  Were the people up north who have endured this winter's anger for the past two weeks even sympathetic that it now covers two-thirds of the country?

Where were all my feathered friends hidden?  Had they found shelter?

I made some coffee and waited for the sunrise and answers.

The Sneeze

(This post was written several weeks ago.)

The woods had been muffled

By stunning white cotton

and downy feathers of snow.
I had been fighting a cold
and therefore avoiding people.

All that I heard 

was the squeak of my boots

and the click of my camera.

But THEN suddenly,

somewhere a tree

sneezed

shaking white crystals all around
my shoulders.

(Click on photo if you want a sneeze in your face.)

Brittle Waters

My breath is knife sharp.

The air is ice.

The forest is quiet,

except for the cold splash of water

pushed by latent

melting snow.

Brown-red leaves

cling in scooped layers

like rose petals 

against the broken stones
lodged in the river,

unwilling to finish

the journey.

Winter holds fast

keeping us all

quiet, in stasis and ever

watchful

for tender spring.

The Happiness Bird

We had been greeted by the second snow of the season. It was soft and white and fell from the branches like big globs of cotton that had been pulled from some abandoned comforter in the sky. The snow was damp and clung to the tree bark, the dried leaves and then fell lumpy on the lawn as soon as the sun warmed the air. I dressed in my new Michelin-man coat that I had purchased half price at the outdoor store just the week before. It was a comfy warm just like the down of a bird because that was what was inside!

We decided that a walk was in order as the temperature had actually climbed to the tempting level of 37 F and the wind had died down.

Since we had not taken the walk to the cliffs and beach in months it was decided that would be perfect.  We were a just over a mile down this trail and as we rounded the corner path that followed the swamp we saw about twelve of these curious (they were not curious to us but we were curious to them) blue birds flying just over head.  They were nice enough to rest between dives and study us to allow a photo shoot.

There is something very inspiring and hopeful about seeing bluebirds in the middle of winter.  If such lovely delicate creatures can deal with this mess, so can I.

City Winter

I am sure that not enough cold and wintry photos have been posted in blog-land.  But these are the first that I dug from last month's archives.


Just before the Christmas Holiday and actually a day before my birthday, we got a large snowfall in the area.  As little as eleven inches in some places and closer to two feet where I was staying, at my daughter's house in the city, where we drove to help her with the little ones.  I admit I was torn not being able to be in my woods to capture the first virginal snowfall of the year, but city suburbs have their winter beauty, even if different and slightly limited.  Below are some of the things I saw through the windows (mostly clean) of my daughter's house while holding small children up high so they could share the view with me.  I have become somewhat adept at holding a camera in one hand and a child on the other hip.

Common Loons

I heard their distant and haunting song just before the last holiday and I knew they had returned once again and brought winter with them.  I have read that the Ojibwa Indians said the loon song was an omen of death.  It has never seemed that sad to me.  It is a lovely piercing cry that carries far across the water and if it is an omen of death it sounds 'released.'  It  may sound like a lover calling that last passionate plea declaring love for his mate.  They fly all the way from Canada to winter here in my river.  Their torpedo shaped body disappears for great lengths of time beneath the surface of the river, reappearing hundreds of feet away to avoid a photo.  We now are getting dozens of them out in the middle of the river but very few near my shore.  Since they cannot walk well on land with their legs placed so far back, they were named the loon.  I have never seen one on land.  Although their average life span is 30 years, they have so many predators on land, water and in the sky, that it is a miracle they survive at all.  This photo (probably a female) is the best I got this year...thus far.

Sharpshooter

The crisp white of the snow was a thousand mirrors against the setting sun. The surface of the water multiplied that reflection by another thousand shards of silver light. It pierced my eyes and was like white fire inside my brain. How could something so far away be so bright and still seem so cold? It was as if the earth welcomed this parting lightning glance from her old friend and in response swirled, tossing the hem of her dress with a glance over her shoulder displaying her version of fire and ice. It was as if a tango of ardor was being performed between the star and the planet. The intensity of the passion was not for mere mortals such as I to comprehend. I was to stay out of the way and let them do their Klingon dance.

The Tease

The day was blue and gray with the sun sometimes able to peek in frustration from behind wind blown clouds. The temperature was neither frigid nor promising...just gray winter cold. I took my favorite pruning shears from the plant shelf at the side of the kitchen and walked to the plant bed in the front yard and snipped some rosemary and some weak-looking but still pungent sage. This was all I needed to tease a slow cooked pot roast into bringing warm thoughts back to the day.

Red Valentines Gift

Throughout the winter months the ornamental grasses at the driveway have bobbed their feathery heads in rhythm to whichever beat the wind sends our way. They are ever graceful and even with clinging ice or a dusting of snow, they manage to provide a warmth by their presence.

Today, with the golden afternoon sun on our backs and optimism in our stance we began the laborious process of cutting back this hedge in preparation for spring. The hedge stands tall and proud at the edge of the driveway with the land falling sharply away into wild roses and thorny holly trees on the back side. This labor of love has to be carefully planned and executed. We gathered the crisp stalks in our arms like wheat and carried them to the vegetable garden and placed them on the path for mulch.

As I started to lift my eyes from the path this lovely velvet red color inside one of the broken stalks caught my gaze. I had to bring it inside to photograph.

If you click the photo to enlarge it looks like red sugar cystals...which perhaps it is? Maybe plant sugars? How sweet.

Beech Tree Leaves

While some people are now thinking about lying on a sandy beach in the warm sun, I looked up at these paper thin, golden, beech leaves crackling like a fire in the wind yesterday and I felt very warm.

Doom and Gloom

Even gloom can sometimes be strikingly beautiful as was this recent sunset that had begun just as the winter snowstorm arrived from the West. The birds had been very active at the feeders during the day clearly knowing that snow and colder wind was on the way. I took this photo just as the sun was passing over the river and it was so stark and so gloomy and yet so breathtaking and beautiful that I was glad to have captured it.

Warm and Cozy

The days have indeed been frosty and the finger of the river where I live has a light crisp layer of ice on its surface which has prevented the varied ducks that had intrigued me last week from visiting my neck of the woods. Yesterday was a nice clear and bright day and as the sun was setting the woodpecker in the photo above stopped on a snag just outside my back window and ate his dinner. His warm colors and the warmth of the setting sun were a wonderful contrast to the gray and cold days we had been having. It is not the best viewed in higher resolution but clicking on the photo will enlarge for a nice screen saver.

Bye Bye Blackbird

(While the song was probably not written about a redwing blackbird, this came to my mind when I was capturing these visitors to the feeder.)

Pack up all my care and woe,
Here I go,
Singing low,
Bye bye blackbird,
Where somebody waits for me,
Sugar's sweet, so is she,
Bye bye
Blackbird!

No one here can love or understand me,
Oh, what hard luck stories they all hand me,
Make my bed and light the light,
I'll be home late tonight,
Blackbird bye bye.

Make my bed and light the light,
I'll be home late tonight,
Leave you bird jet in the sky
Toodle oo!
Farewell!
Bye bye!

Blackbird
(Blackbird,Blackbird)
We'll take the flying little blackbird bye!

(And this little known but relevant later verse)

Blackbird, blackbird singing the blues all day
Right outside of my door.
Blackbird, blackbird why do you sit and say
There's no sunshine in store?
All through the winter you hung around.
Now I begin to feel homeward bound.
Blackbird, blackbird gotta be on my way
Where there's sunshine galore.

More on this 1926 song here.

Storm of Death and Beauty

January has almost exited for 2009 and we are finally getting our first snowstorm. Another wave of ice and snow is yet to follow. These two visitors are like rare jewels against the soft white lace that is draped everywhere. All of the feathered fellows are making rough noises and sharp chatter as they compete with other species at the feeders today. When briefly satiated, they sit like puffed ornaments in the nearby holly watching others dart among spilled seeds on the snow below. At least five people have died as this storm crossed their paths and I try to stretch my mind around that drumbeat while watching these jewels flit around outside my window.

Nature is so lovely and like a rising ruby fire so destructive.

Elegance on the water

These redheaded diving ducks (now I think they are canvas backs!) are so lovely. They hurry away as I approach and do not linger near the dock even if I am not there. They are dressed like royalty. I love the burgundy hoods in contrast with the shade of gray and brown. The cold winter weather has forced them to this peninsula, but soon they will move on as the snows and icy weather approach in the coming days. I wish I could follow them down the coast. There are seven of them in the group, and they all look like males. Maybe they are brothers off to party in Florida before mating for spring?

Identity Problem

The very first photo looks like a hooded merganser to me. He is hanging out just behind the brush at the edge of the water near my dock. A small family of diving ducks...maybe pochards...have also visited the creek today. I don't know if this is the common pochard or the redhead...but it looks like the redhead to me. Photo isn't crisp enough, but these guys are somewhat shy and I was unable to get closer. And then off to inside of the creek and hanging loosely away is the fourth photo above. Too far to determine, but looks like a lone goldeneye? Any bird experts who may lurk at my blog feel free to chime in. (Clicking on the photos will enlarge.)

Like a blue-white witch
She blows icy syrup
And everything is cold and brittle.
You cannot hug or even touch
Because you will break.
The quiet is all that keeps the peace.
Any noise would shatter the still moment
Into three thousand shards of shivery points.
It is a vulnerable royal fortress
Held fast only by the silent moment
Of temporary permission.
You must go
Or you will also be a blue temporary thought
Untethered by change.

New Visitors

New visitors to the feeders. We have regularly seen this northern mockingbird in the yard throughout the year and listened to their lovely r'epertoire of songs during the summer, but the first time seen this late in winter at the water base. The Towhee below is a rare visitor indeed and only seen very briefly in the spring sometimes. Perhaps his visit is appropriate during this coldest of weeks as National Geographic says the song varies from 'Drink your tea" to "Drink tea.'