My Summer Guests Have Arrived!

My summer residents are arriving by the hundreds. Yes, hundreds, and I look forward to seeing everyone I can. They are the perfect guests. I don't have to feed them although they are very appreciative of any morsels I put out for them. I don't have to clean my house in preparation for their arrival. Nor do I have to make any beds or do any laundry for them. They stop by periodically so that I may soak in their beauty and enjoy their antics. They provide me with endless music everyday and night. Starting with a morning chorus, settling into a lighter melody through the day ending with a night punctuated with occasional shout outs to their friends. They don't leave me a mess to clean up even when they bring their babies by later in the summer. Some of them converse with me. I don't understand what they are saying but the still answer my replies. Yes, my bird guests are arriving daily, melding seamlessly with my year round residents.

I held a conversation with my Green Heron resident as it started setting up house again by the barn. Soon there will be gawky babies tentatively fledging to the trees above my head as I perform my daily barn chores. I don't know who enjoys who more. Me watching them or them watching me. The phoebes at the house and the phoebes at the barn, the Carolina Wrens at the house and the Carolina Wrens at the barn. We all feel safe in each others company.

As I went in search of the Ruffed Grouse I heard near the house this morning, I stepped out the back door. I felt a little like Snow White as I was surrounded by a whirlwind of bird activity. In front of me a Towhee did his little jig, jumping back and forth, in an effort to scratch up a meal. A Phoebe zipped in and hovered for an instant in front of me and then dropped to snag an insect before zipping back off around the side of the house. Two Pileated Woodpeckers were hanging on the trees at the edge of the property as they chortled and flirted with each other. Then in flew a Tufted Titmouse inspecting all the action to be sure there wasn't something it was missing. Just moments before, I was greeted outside the front door by a Carolina Wren. It seemed surprised to see me but not afraid of me at all. It's so nice to feel the earth coming alive again. "Fee-a-bee" in the morning and "Whip-poor-will" in the evening. How could anyone feel lonely when they're surrounded by all this? Not me. My summer residents have arrived. Hooray!!!

...pure comfort

'Twas a day of tug o' war between bright sunshine and ominous clouds. The wind a frantic cheerleader, switching sides at a whim. A Red-shouldered hawk swooping down against the turbulence to snag a meal from within the tangle of a fallen trees skeleton. Then laboring, pumping its wings to carry its dinner to a nice plump oak branch to serve as a dining table. No need to clear the table, just drop the inedible leftovers into the creek below. Holding my camera in my hand I decided to make an effort to find something beautiful in the sleeping landscape. Something worth capturing in the short distance from the barn to the house. Lichens on the trees along the driveway became my muse. As the sun fell, the peeper chorus began to grow into a deafening din. But it is a sound that is so familiar it blends into the background and my ears have to make a concerted effort to single it out. Sort of an "Oh yeah, the peepers are singing." That's what living in the country does. It wraps you in a blanket of sounds, sights and smells that feel like something that's been there all your life. Pure comfort.

Signs of spring

Oh spring, you are here. The wonderfully familiar "Phee-bee" greeted me on the way to the barn this morning. I worry for my little Phoebe knowing they are insectivores. As much as I would rather not see insects this early, I hope there are enough to feed my little bird. They nest on the house and barn so they are constant companions during the warm weather months. Their aerobatics are incredible to watch. They make up for the drab gray of their plumage.

After feeding the boys, the big boys started to bark in the direction of the neighbors pond. I didn't think much of it, since I heard a tractor in the distance. Between pitching forkfuls of manure into the Gator, when I finally got around to glancing in that direction,  I saw a line of dark silhouettes slowly strolling across the levee. I retrieved my binoculars and zoomed in on 18 turkeys slowly evading the oncoming machine. Sharp birds that they are, they saw me looking at them and once again adjusted their planned escape route. Their coffee ground brown bodies with a golden chestnut rectangle of tail feathers and bright red throat and waddle were quite a stunning contrast to the dull grays and pale browns of the still dead landscape they were hiking through. Before I know it the parade will be punctuated by gawky looking chicks that always shock me with their ability to fly despite their tiny, immature looking wings. Time flies. Oh how time flies.

Greeting the day

Very early this morning, I was fortunate enough to be awake and outside at the barn to greet the new day. Employing the term "morning" conjures up a vision of a beautiful sunrise but I am speaking of one a.m.. No sun, but on a cold, clear night, a celestial ceiling of billions of stars spanned endlessly overhead. It would have been so easy to keep my head down and trudge to the barn, do my chores under roof, and pull up my hood and trudge back to the house, never engaging in nature. But I chose to make a special effort to stop, look and listen to all that was unfolding around me. The stars provided a visual main feature. The sounds of coyotes howling and barking came from down in the hollow across the road, providing the chorus. They were joined by dogs all over the neighborhood, most distant but some as close as next door. Even farther off in the distance, the occasional sound of howling semi-truck tires on the highway blended in harmony. The tinkling sound of water from the drainage pipe under the driveway falling into the creek provided the rhythm. Behind me the sounds of my old boy munching on his hay brought a feeling of comfort that all was well. The presence of Bubby and Bear by my side confirmed that I was safe and protected. The chill of the cold air was just enough to heighten my senses without being uncomfortable enough to distract me. I stayed for a little while, appreciating all that was presented to me. It is far to easy to take all these things for granted so I make the effort to enjoy them when I can. Someday I may not have that opportunity, but for now I will seize the day.

My Mother's Hands~

Today I looked at my hands and saw my mother’s hands. The bumpy joints, no longer smooth, telltale signs of arthritis. I saw the wrinkles and crepe like skin with bulging veins, telltale signs of many years and much hard labor that they have endured. The tips having neatly, although far from perfectly, manicured nails painted with polish in an effort to dress them up a bit as a reminder that they are the hands of a woman.

But more than just the physical appearance, I saw hands that have painstakingly knitted hats and shawls and headbands to be donated to cancer patients or homeless shelters. Hands that have created dozens upon dozens of cookies, cakes and pies and delicious meals to make a loved one’s day special. Hands that have volunteered during the darkest of times in a community to try to help restore things back to a more normal state. Hands that have labored to earn money to be in turn given back to a local cause with no expectation of recognition for their effort.  Hands that have performed all sorts of physical labor, created works of art, played musical instruments and clapped a million times in joy and appreciation. Hands that write with a distinct style, an autograph that is clear and unmistakeably mine.

The same hands that have wiped away tears, traded back scratches and back rubs, demonstrated how to perform all sorts of tasks, guarded secret whispers, contained laughter at inappropriate times, held another person’s hand to comfort them, rested on backs in a show of support, and reached out to pull someone up when they were down. Hands that created the locking clasp of a hug, hands that raised high in the air to question something that had been said or done when no one else dared. Hands that held and lovingly stroked the fur of a beloved pet as they left on their final journey into heaven.

And the hands that held the hand that gave them life as that hands life slipped away. They are hands that make me proud that they have accomplished so much. They are indeed, my mother’s hands. And I wear them with honor. I can only hope that mine will make as positive a contribution to the world as my mother’s hands.

This is my New Year present to my family and Facebook friends. It is to relieve them of the looong Facebook entries I post and instead provide them with a place to read my writings about life in the hollow. I will not be blogging on a regular basis, but rather, when something moves me to put my feelings in words. And so it begins....

Life is so dynamic. No matter how hard we try to force it into a state of being that suits us we cannot escape the moments of happenstance that shape what actually happens and how it influences us. With this afternoon came one of those moments. As I was sitting down to eat brunch, just outside the bank of windows behind the kitchen table, in the drab grays, browns and whites of winter appeared a flash of cobalt blue. So out of place, yet so welcome. As my eyes sharpened their focus on the small body on a tree branch ahead of me I discovered even more color than I expected. A rich, rusty red and milky white grounded the blue on the top and back of an Eastern Bluebird. Before I could absorb all of the beauty before me, my attention was distracted by a blue flash to my left, landing on the bluebird feeder on the deck. As my head snapped to the left, the frenzy of motion escalated as not one, not two, but three more bluebirds landed on and around the feeder. They hopped around and over the feeder, peeking in the holes in the end and through the plexiglass sides, exploring and searching for food. Sadly, there was no food inside. I had filled the feeder in the past with high hopes of having bluebirds become regular visitors but instead found that many other creatures took advantage of my offerings. Red-bellied Woodpeckers wisely slipped their bills under the plexiglass sides to raise them just enough to give them access to the food inside. Not what I had in mind but I was glad to have them visit the feeder all the same. Then came the squirrels who chewed the end holes, which had carefully been designed to welcome just bluebirds inside, into large openings which allowed easy access for their scavenging. So with the new alterations to the feeder my filling of the feeder ceased.

But today, as the burst of activity that so captivated my attention warmed my heart, I once again placed an offering of meal worms out for the bluebirds. It was probably in vain as the whole bluebird sighting took place in a period of maybe 2 minutes and then they were gone. It was over so quickly that I almost didn't have time to think about grabbing my camera to try to catch the beauty. The image above was all I could manage once I gathered my composure and acted upon the wave of emotion that washed over me. Just two minutes, but long enough to make an impression that will last a life time. A reminder that life happens when you least expect it and if your heart and mind are not open to receiving it you will miss out on the little things that make life beautiful.