There was frost on the ground and on the cars this morning.
In the afternoon I drove under a dull white sky to buy bookcases and better, bigger boards for the bed.
Returning, I crested a rise and saw the land laid out below me. The combination of height, snow, and bare trees made it possible to see quite far, in nearly all directions. I had forgotten about how big a landscape could be; most of them around here are close in and their size lies in their details, not their spatial depth. It has been a long while since I’ve felt the emotions big, stretching-to-the-sky landscapes evoke in me. Forests and meadows are beautiful, and they can charm and soothe me, but it takes big sky country to evoke that awe that causes my heart to clutch in wonder.
Where the dog lies
A yellow stain lies
Against the wall
Like an old yellow dog.
I think (knock wood) that I have a handle on how to deal with my chapters. I’m doing them month by month, with each “month” focusing on my observations; preceding or following them will be the more thematic, meditative pieces, and those dealing with specific events.
Now I just have to learn to get up earlier on weekends and my late days. Mid-to-late morning is my best creative time, and I’m either stuck at work during it, or I’ve been sleeping through it. Argh.
Looking at the Environmental History journal, I realize I’m just not that interested anymore. It gives the brain something to do, but it’s not engaging the mind or the spirit like the more creative writings are. Sad, that.
A squirrel has come to filch suet. It’s been a while since I’ve seen one on the porch. When it is not hanging from the suet cages, perching on the log house, or picking up seeds from the railing, it is scratching. Fleas? Molt? Its fur is certainly ratty enough for the latter.
Late last night (or early this morning) light flickers in the darkness. Lightning? I lie next to D. in the soft quiet dark. Then the rumble of thunder.
Today has been warm, humid, and unsettled. Unsurprisingly, there is a tornado watch and a flood warning for our region. Although there is still snow on the ground – snow which I hope today’s brief warm rainy spell will melt away – I think spring has begun. The birds this morning were singing, and the mourning dove was lowing, and it just felt springlike.
…although the robins and the grackles have yet to make an appearance. Mostly, it’s just cardinals, juncos, sparrows, and the occasional mourning dove, wren, or starling. (The jays do not come to the feeder.)
There is mud and running water everywhere. I have learned to put an old rag between me and the little black cat when I don’t want wet footmarks on my clothes.
This afternoon I walked over to the dentist to have some rough edges on my mouthguard smoothed. It began to tentatively rain on my walk back, and the sky to the west rumbled and growled. Not long after, I walked out to my car to come home and the rain began in earnest.
According to the wind strings I’ve got on the porch, and the giant flag at in the parking lot nearby, the prevailing wind is coming – you guessed it – from the southeast. I’m getting tired of these southeasterly winds! They are trouble!
The yard is full of the screaming of the blue jays.
I can see the maple buds ripening even from in here.
I’m sleepy, and it’s warm and rainy outside – sounds like perfect weather for a nap. The only thing that would make it perfect would be if I could have a cat to curl up with me.
The morning smells of skunk.
The afternoon was full of winds, and clouds marching sharp and upright across the sky.
During the night light snow flurries arose. So far they are light, and coming on winds from the southeast, so at least there’s that. The cats carry around dustings of snow on fur and whiskers.
Today I’m going to cut the boards for the bed. Measure twice, cut once…
I should start timing when the birds make their rounds. Today, it was from about 1pm to 1:15 pm. A blue jay showed up, and so did the northern flicker! It’s a somewhat shy bird, with an engaging habit of peeking around the trunks of trees. It, like the smaller downies, likes to climb upward, throwing itself up from perch to perch, then to swoop heavily (in its case) down towards the next tree, with a slight upward rise at the end. It took a few pecks at the suet, but seemed more comfortable eating whatever it was finding in the bark of the large silver maple and among the dead snags of the neighbor’s tree. While feeding at the suet, it makes rasping krrrr… krrrr… krrrr… sounds. I also saw three sparrows (house, probably) in that tree, with two fighting over the third. Ah, spring…
Next round of feeding: 3;40p to The snow is still blowing lightly around, and the sun-and-shadows of the earlier afternoon have given way to a dull grey haze. Visibility is declining, although the snow isn’t really sticking. The juncos, downies and the cardinals, and often the house sparrows, are the heart of the flock these days, though there were two fat striped sparrows there too; I believe they are song sparrows.
Last night there was a lunar eclipse, but the sky was too overcast to see it.
The birds came at 11am.
I’ve been reading E.B. White’s One Man’s Meat. I’m really enjoying it, stopping frequently to read passages from it to D. I can’t tell whether White was a man I wanted to know, living in an era I would like to live in, or a writer of a kind I’d like to be. Probably small bits of all three; in his writing he’s an engaging soul, there are many elements about life in the 1930s that I’ve noted before are appealing to me, and his writing is wonderfully engaging and witty. Honestly, although this phrase is now hackneyed and over-worked, his essays feel a bit like blog entries – the good kind.
The problem of reading E.B. White when D.’s asleep is that I keep wanting to read aloud to him, and am having to settle for the less-than-satisfying act of putting in little pieces of reminder paper.
The birds were still feeding at noon. Then D. went out the door and the cats came up on the porch.
The little black cat is trying to catch birds. It slunk rapidly to the edge of the porch, leapt onto the railing, then crashed down through the branches of the evergreen as the sparrow flew away. Undaunted, it sharpened its claws on the trunk of the shrub, walked around the porch, and sprang back up to the railing again, tail twitching.
I wonder still if the cat is pregnant. It doesn’t seem any larger, but its nipples seem more noticeable, which is supposedly one sign of cat pregnancy. On the other hand, I saw the large white and orange tomcat slinking around earlier today…
The black-and-white cat, which I haven’t seen in a while, and the little black cat are fighting. The little black cat is walking tall on its toes and its tail looks like a pipe cleaner.
6:15p and the birds show up for another round at the feeder. There are two mourning doves on the rail, soft and pinkly golden in the early evening light.
I think what I enjoy about reading about the 1930s is that everything is sufficiently familiar – many of the same issues are written about in language that is also very much the same – yet it all takes place on a smaller scale at a slower pace.
On the other hand, people haven’t yet learned to be sufficiently critical of their social structures; they’re wary, but not yet through the mill.
The birds are feeding at 7:30a. The house finches are back, alongside the male cardinal and the house sparrows. I hear a crow in the distance.
This morning I saw the first grackle at the feeder.
At 10:15a, the male cardinal showed up with the house sparrows.
10:30a - a female cardinal has shown up, and there is a squirrel in the larger of the two frontyard maples, scratching at itself.
The grass is dry with an understory of moss and ground ivy; the ground is hummocky. I found a heads-up penny on the way to the mailbox.
Yesterday I slipped and fell while kicking ice around my car. My knee is bruised and my forearm aches.
On the way in to work today, I saw my first spring robin.
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