THAT’LL DO, IN A PINCH

Mothers Day, 1995. First one in the new house.

Home alone. Bruce is far, far away in some frigid place with other 
blue-eyed blonds who eat white food and say "That's different." 
("That's  different" refers to everything from a milk mustache 
on your child to being robbed at gunpoint at Paul's Discount. 
His people are not easily ruffled.)

No cards.

No calls.

         Jeez.

Of course I got up at 5:30 a.m., and no one was about to call at that hour. But as the morning dragged on, I became the guest of honor at a festive pity-party.

I stood at the kitchen window viewing the front garden. It looked like a bleak day ahead.

Then the first one landed. Never had seen one before.

Then another one landed. With his buddies.

And more.

And the show didn’t stop for an hour. It was our first year in the country, and I had never seen anything like this variety of birds until that very moment. 

The show hasn’t stopped for 16 years, 

and it almost always starts on Mothers Day.

An Understated Mama
That rare bird, a Cardinal's wife

Happy Mother’s Day to me.
And to you.

OH, THAT OLD THING?

When I flip through the Rolodex in my head reviewing the varied experiences I’ve had, I wonder why some memories are more precious or more vivid than others. For example, I’ve been on hundreds of plane trips to exciting places, but the one that stands out is when one of the two engines on a DC3 exploded over the jungle-like hillsides of eastern Honduras. Just can’t get that out of my frontal lobe.

We tend to value rare things, not common things. Carats more than carrots. Eclipses more than everyday sunshine. It’s just human nature. We go for the superlative, the unusual, the last of a kind. I admit it; when there were just a few dragonflies, I longed to see them. Now there are hundreds, and I still enjoy them, but not quite so intensely. When I see a swarm of brown, dull sparrows on the ground, I think, “Gee, I wish we had some birds today.” One glimpse of a Scarlet Tanager, and I am mooning over it for weeks.

I would guess that some little speck in our DNA remembers a time when noticing something out of the ordinary meant staying alive. And there’s a little greed, too; it’s nice to have something no one else does, whether it’s an item or an experience.

We notice something extraordinary pretty darn fast. The trick is to revel in the ordinary, the common. Sparrows are ordinary, until you think about how many kinds there are 

and notice  how beautiful they are.

We have 4 or 5 woodpeckers on the feeders almost all the time. Still, I cannot help but stare into the forest longing for one more glimpse of the pileated. Is it too much to ask for one more pileated before I leave this place? 

Okay, everyday woodies aren’t too shabby.

What am I? Chopped liver?

You know what would be captivating? If the sun didn’t rise. Certainly would make one more cognizant of the miracle of its daily appearance. 

 Today appreciate the everyday.

                                                                                               

DINNER OR DINER?

When you’re in line at the country buffet,

You best be aware who's looking your way;

While you are eyeing that tasty hors d’oeuvre,

You’d better be ready to dodge, duck, and swerve.

The fast get away, the slow are in trouble;

If you’re slow and you’re weak, your troubles will double.

Better to blend with the trees and the water;

The bright colored guys are in danger of slaughter.

When the bald eagle soars, it makes my heart patter,

But there’s carnage-a-plenty on his dinner platter.

Oh, no-carp again?

Dragonflies spread out their wings while relaxing,

But many end up as a feast for a waxwing.

Cedar Waxwing with Dragonfly Nugget

Detail

Go ahead, eat the next guy, but watch out behind you-

Sooner or later, your predators find you;

Trying to escape the food chain is futile;

Nature is lovely, but nature is brutal.