Bird Nests and other Spring Musings

Spring arrived here in March. Then, with a vengeance, Winter came back as if admonishing Spring for daring to tread on its sacred ground. My apple tree never blossomed this spring. It's quite probable my cherry never will again. My plum, it appears, is just patiently waiting for next year. And, my wisteria nearly gave up but is nosing its way through the tangle of my arbor with fragile, grey-green leaves. On the other hand, my peach tree blessed me with so many baby peaches it couldn't hold on to them all. Go figure.

But, beyond these discoveries of new life thwarted are two that have warmed my heart for the past month. A pair of cardinals built a nest in the vine that shades my dog run--before the vine even sprouted leaves which meant their little home was in full view of anyone with even minimal vision. I chuckled as I watched the mother sit on her eggs, face into the corner of our chimney, and wondered whether she felt safe because she couldn't see me even though I could see her.

Two weeks ago a fledgling appeared at the top of the trellis that supports this vine.  All afternoon both parents would stop by with food for the baby and in between visits he (or her) would sit patiently waiting. Trusting that they were not far away.

We have cats in our neighborhood. Lots of cats. And a hawk. I wanted to move the fledgeling to a safer place. One not quite so visible. But had to trust that nature has its own way of doing these things. Then, for a week I did not see the fledgeling again. Ach! I forced myself not to consider what might have happened. Then, sitting at my writing desk which faces the dog run I saw a brown bird perched on its picket fence. It was the baby, again taking food from its parents. Happy day for me! He's big enough now and strong enough to dodge those pesky cats and possibly even the hawk.

The other discovery came yesterday. I noticed a robin pecking away at the debris in our gutter. I thought maybe it was foraging for a tasty tidbit but actually it was finding just the perfect twig or two for a nest. The nest, I soon discovered, is wedged in the revitalized tendrils of my wisteria.

Spring and Winter can fight amongst themselves for supremacy of the seasons but guess what? The cycle of life is stronger then them both.

Out Damned Snow! Out I say!

Enough already with this Winter...its oppressive grey skies and miserable temperatures and teasing promises of spring.

The dogs love it--I hate it. Even if it melts by afternoon
I want nothing of it when a week ago the 82 degree day
encouraged the quince and forsythia blossoms
that now shiver under caps of snow--caps that do nothing to preserve warmth.

Ach! The only good from it is I am motivated to write...but the view. Ach!

Even my orchids are shivering!

Removing Chaff--Not So Easy

 I had a bumper crop of anise this year. 

The lacy-leafed bush that I grow as much for the monarchs it attracted one season as for its seeds. Sadly, the pudgy, iridescent green caterpillars have never returned to frolic amongst the sea-green gossamer that looks as though it would be equally happy submerged in some land-locked lake.

Monarchs or no monarchs, my anise bush has flourished. No matter, the birds like the seeds.

This year I harvested some seeds taking care to leave a fair amount for the goldfinches. I dried the seeds on a tray in my kitchen for a week, along with their fibrous leaves and delicate stems. Then it was time to get biblical-- to separate the wheat from the chaff.  

Oh what fragrance filled my kitchen! Reward enough for my efforts thus far.

The next task was not difficult but it was time consuming. I gently crunched the dry heads between my fingers and, with tiny tinkles, the seeds fell to the tray. So did many of the broken stems. As I have great plans to include the anise seeds in a Christmas cookie recipe, the stems had to go. This was when the clock seemed to stop ticking.

           

Finally I had removed enough of the stems to sift the remaining pile through a strainer. Of course some stubborn stems determined to offer up extra crunch to my cookies wound up amongst the seeds and these I removed as well.

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I find myself removing lots of sticks and stems from my days as well. I am increasingly aware of the limit to my days. The pressure to make them as fruitful as possible overwhelms me at times. I should relax--should enjoy the extra time I have post retirement. But I cannot. I have so many miles to travel before I sleep.

Unlike my effort with the anise seeds, this task is difficult. It requires that I give equal attention to my passions and to the significant people in my life---not necessarily an inclusive equation.  To balance them fairly means to eliminate some of the chaff that has accumulated. I can see that there might be pain associated with this elimination process. I encountered none with my little anise seed project.

I haven’t resolved it yet but my sanity will soon demand that I get started. There are only twenty-four hours in each day. I need to simplify my life so as to have quality time to pursue my favorites. Sounds like an internet thing…my favorites.

Meanwhile the leaves are tumbling outside my bay window--delicate reminders that the seasons are changing. That summer will soon be a memory.

I gathered an entire spice jar of seeds today and now I’m thinking I won’t ever get to baking those cookies. That would be only adding chaff to the wheat of my life.

I’m glad I left some seeds for the birds. They may be the only ones who benefit from my fragrant anise bush.

           

Jaws of Death

This morning I sat at my writing desk determined to stay on schedule with my novel, the one I started two years ago about the love triangle between a young mandolin prodigy, his childhood sweetheart and his sister, who worships his childhood sweetheart. I want to finish my editing--have set the end of September as my goal and have to edit 15 pages a day to accomplish this. I am on track--was on track--until this morning.

I opened my laptop just I heard a massive iron beast pull into the driveway of the house two doors from ours. Rumbling and beeping its way to the back yard it appeared 100 feet from my bay window in its slicker yellow majesty. It stretched its sturdy neck, lifted its mighty head, dipped it, opened its jaws and ripped a sedan-size hole into the roof of my neighbor's house. After twenty minutes of tearing, pulling and shredding the dirty deed was done. I'm not kidding. That's how much time it took to reduce a two story, red brick, four bedroom structure to the size of a dumpster. Wow. Back to work.

I often have morning cramps--have self-diagnosed it as IBS. Enough information. Had it this morning--I thought. Not so lucky. Five hours later, here in bed under my comforter, I have awoken with the clear realization that the bug, which downed my husband this entire week, got me. Swine variety? I hope not.

Just as well. The house is gone but the 'Jaws of Death' have spent the last five hours ripping up the concrete driveway. I hope my own house survives the earth tremors and that tomorrow is a better day.

So much for keeping deadlines. The flu is just another reason to hate this time of year.

Did I mention I don't like September?