Posted tagged ‘Bird feeder’

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“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.”

April 13, 2012

The house was really cold when I woke up this morning, 60° cold. I turned up the heat and nothing happened. I cursed a bit then decided to check the red on/off switch: it was on. I next checked the thermostat, and it was off. Glory be, no repairman needed! I turned the switch to heat and the furnace responded. The house got warmer than outside.

I know radiators aren’t the most attractive decorations for a house, but when I was a kid, I always took comfort from the hissing of the steam as the water coursed through the radiator at the foot of my bed. When I was cold, I could put my feet under it, and they’d quickly get warm. Mittens drying on the top of the radiator would steam a bit as they dried, and you had to remember to turn them over or the top side would never dry. The radiator was noisy so the house at night was never quiet, but it was always warm.

Today is Friday the 13th. I’m not suspicious so it is like any Friday for me. It’s a pretty day with the sun bright in the sky. Lots of birds are in and out at the feeders. I have a new feeder for Baltimore orioles that has yet to go out, and I’ll do that later. When I looked them up, the Audubon site said around the first of May for orioles, but all the birds were early this year so the orioles may already be here looking for their jelly. I need to get mealy worms hoping I can attract blue birds.

I don’t think I noticed birds when I was young. Seagulls at the beach and pigeons in the city are all I remember. Every morning when I woke up, I’d hear birds greeting the day, but I have no idea which birds were in my neighborhood. I assume robins as they’re everywhere but can’t think of any others. Nobody had bird feeders so there wasn’t any reason for the birds to drop by to visit.

When I was in Ghana, my family moved off cape to the same town where I had grown up. My mother put bird feeders in her yard. She got pigeons. We used to laugh and call them country pigeons. She wasn’t amused.

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“A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.”

March 8, 2012

The wind is so strong Gracie and I heard a crash and rushed to find the source. My umbrella had been blown down, and it banged as it hit the deck rail. Come to find out there is a wind advisory, and the winds could be as strong as 55 MPH. I decided my umbrella is probably safest where it is.

Already it is 56° which is almost tropical for this time of year. The sun is bright and the sky perfectly blue. If there were no wind, it would be a lovely deck day, but the wind is so strong the tops of the pine trees are swaying left and right. The bird feeders are swaying like carnival rides, but the birds act as if nothing is happening. The gold finches are back, and the males’ chests are brighter. Yesterday I had a house finch and today a flicker. 

I keep stopping to look out the window when I hear the wind. The wild, swooshing sound makes me feel a bit like Dorothy arriving at the house just before the tornado hit. I won’t be surprised to find my yard littered with pine branches. The pine are delicate trees.

I remember walking to or from school when it was windy. We’d face the wind, raise our arms to our sides and let the wind take us. It would go up our sleeves and make our jackets billow. I always felt as if I were flying. We’d laugh the whole time.

When I was young, the weather was rarely a topic of conversation. Snow was all we cared about as it carried the prospect of a snow day. Rain was disappointing as we couldn’t go out and play unless it was a light summer rain. After the rain, though, was always the most fun. Puddles meant slamming your foot in the water and splashing yourself and anyone near you. The wetter we got, the more fun we had. Our feet would slosh in our sneakers and bubbles would come up by our toes. We never cared. Sneakers always dried.

Adulthood has its privileges but much is lost. Puddles are to be avoided. Wet shoes and mud oozing between your toes stop being fun. I never walk bare-footed any more. Sandals are about as close as I get. I’m thinking it’s time again to feel the softness of the grass and the warmth of a puddle left by the summer rain.

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“Nothing irritates me more than chronic laziness in others. Mind you, it’s only mental sloth I object to. Physical sloth can be heavenly.”

January 20, 2012

Last night’s dusting of snow barely covered the backyard. Under the trees had no snow at all. Now it is melting and all I hear are drops from the roof. When I went to get the papers, I saw paw prints on the driveway. I wondered about them. Might the coyote be back or was it Cody, Gracie’s friend, walking to the school bus stop with her family?

The birds are swaying and spinning with the feeders, and they remind me of a carnival ride, the sort which always made me sick. I filled the feeders yesterday in case we get snow tomorrow. I’m not ready for snow, even the paltry 3 to 5 inches predicted. It may turn to rain, and I’m holding on to that. This winter has spoiled me.

I need new slippers. These are too well-worn. My feet get cold unless I wear socks. I remember never being cold. At night I used to put the temperature down to 58° and it was never higher than 66° when I was awake. Partly for the animals and partly for me, the night is now left at 62°. Even then Gracie tries to steal the covers and Fern huddles or sleeps on my hip. I hate that but mostly I’m asleep and don’t notice. My heat is programmed up to 65° at 7 then up to 68° at 8:30. I tend to sleep late so the house is warm when I wake up. Yesterday I had a fire going all afternoon. I sat in the living room with my book and my laptop, but mostly I watched the fire burn. It was mesmerizing. It was also one of the best fires I’ve made. My father would have called it a Hollywood fire, like the ones in the movies, because it burned so evenly and so long. The house smelled wonderful.

I haven’t been out much this week. My house has been the hub of activity though activity may be just a bit too strong a word. I did clean two rooms, change the litter boxes and my bed and folded and brought upstairs the wash that had been in the dryer since last week so maybe activity works even though I usually think whirlwind and activity go together. Maybe I’ve just lowered my expectations. Since folding the wash, I haven’t done anything. I guess I’m considering my current state of sloth a reward for such exertion.

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“That grand old poem called Winter”

January 15, 2012

Today is winter. I have no doubt. I woke up to a snow squall, a tiny nor’easter, and a yard covered by the dusting. It is now 13°. I went out for breakfast as I usually do but my car was slow to heat. Gracie was in the back seat wearing her Pendleton coat, and, as I was a bit early, I rode around until the car was warm so Miss Gracie would be comfortable waiting.

The snow isn’t pretty the way some storms are. The wind is tossing the flakes which keep changing size. Right now they’re large and wispy. Just a short while ago, they were tiny and look short-lived. They’re falling beneath a gray white sky. The branches of the pine trees are dark against the snow and sky.

The bird feeders need filling, but I’ll bring them inside to fill then put them back outside. I’m not standing there in this cold. Besides I don’t see a bird. They are huddled elsewhere keeping warm.

The game last night was one-sided. Tom Brady was magnificent. How he found his targets in the middle of all those Broncos was nothing short of amazing. Tebow et al were outclassed from the opening minute. I’m guessing it will be the Ravens next.

I’ll experience the day from right here in my den. My feet are now clad in cozies and slippers, and I’m wearing flannel pants and a sweatshirt. I’m already thinking nap.

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“Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.”

January 6, 2012

A dusting of snow was on the lawn this morning. It was the second dusting of the winter, and both are the only snow we’ve seen. The day is getting warmer, already up 5° since I first checked, and the warmth has made the dusting a memory. Today will be in the 40’s. During previous winters, a day in the 40’s was considered almost balmy but not this winter. 40 during the day seems to be the norm. The nights, however, are still cold, even freezing, and they remind us that this is really winter.

On our way to school on some windy winter mornings, we’d walk backwards when we had to go around the field at the foot of our hill. The wind whipped across that field with such ferocity I used to wonder if my nose would freeze and break off my face. Our coats were blown by the wind and our legs got so cold they turned red. We’d hurry as fast as backwards would let us to get pass that field because beyond the field was a street filled with houses on both sides which protected us from the wind. The cold, though, was something else. No matter how much my mother bundled us we were freezing by the time we got to school. We’d wear sweaters under our winter coats, and my mother shoved hats on our heads, mittens on our hands and scarfs around our necks. I even remember wearing some pink underwear my mother bought me which were like mini-leggings and went down as far as the tops of my knees. They were God-awful ugly but kept me a bit warmer. I prayed no one would ever see them.

Now, I am never outside long enough to get really cold. The other day I brought the bird feeders into the house as it was too chilly to stand outside and fill them. I’m cold only for a few minutes until my car gets toasty warm. I run to the store and run back to the car. I look outside the window here in my den, and I swear I can see the cold. I decide there is no reason whatsoever to go out, and I sit here and read in the warmth of my house. Like bears, I believe hibernating is the best winter survival tool.

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“An optimist is someone who gets treed by a lion but enjoys the scenery.”

January 2, 2012

Winter is in the wings. The weatherman says single digits by tomorrow night. As soon as I finish here, I’m going to fill my feeders so the birds won’t go hungry. The bird man on NPR this morning said the birds would be at the feeders even more when it gets cold. I’m also going to hunt for the heater for the bird bath as that same bird man said birds need water this time of year even more than food.

Yesterday I was far busier than usual: the list of those accomplishments is long so today I have declared a day of rest as my back is a bit sore, and I’m tired. Today I’ll hunker down and watch the Tournaments of Roses parade and maybe read a bit later, but I suspect by late afternoon I’ll be a bit antsy and will probably haul up some bins to put more of Christmas away.

The new year has me thinking about my life. I don’t think I’d change much about it.

On summer mornings, I stand outside with the papers in my hand and listen to the birds, smell the flowers in the front garden and let the breeze touch me.

The star filled night sky awes me. At the ocean, the sky almost runs out of room for any more stars. I like to lie down in the cool sand and look at those stars in all their wonder and glory. I still wish on the first star I see.

A few snowflakes, then a few more and I run to the back door and turn on the light so I can watch the snow fall. I see the individuality of the flakes highlighted in the light. Sometimes I stick out my tongue and catch the snow.

I love to take a ride with no destination in mind. Out of curiosity, I take streets I’ve never been down before and sometimes I’m surprised by what I find: an old house, a field of flowers, a graveyard hidden by weeds and even a few horses, heads bent munching the grass. Sometimes I take all rights and other times I take all lefts.

I am still hopeful about the world, and I believe the best of people. I don’t think I could live my life any other way.

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“The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only.”

December 29, 2011

Winter is here today. It’s mighty cold; it’s bundle up to keep warm weather. From my perch inside here at the computer, I can look out the window and see the sunshine, but I know it’s not the sort with any warmth. It brings only light. I can also see the bird feeders. The birds seem to be taking turns. Yesterday it was the goldfinches. Today nuthatches are at one feeder and chickadees at another. Three flickers dropped by the other day and ate the suet which I’ve since replaced, but they haven’t been back yet. The bird bath is frozen. I’m going to have to look again in the cellar to find the heater for it. Every spring I put the heater away, and the next winter I forget where I put it so I buy another one then I find the old one. This year, again, I found none of them. I am really good at putting things away.

I don’t ever remember feeling cold when I was a kid no matter how long I was outside. I wore ski pants, a sweater topped by a jacket, mittens and a hat. If there was snow, I wore heavy socks and shoes stuffed into my boots. One year we had so much snow the plow left six-foot high piles along the sides of the street. That was the year of our snow cave. We used shovels to dig out rooms and water to make the sides of the cave icy and strong. We went from room to room on our knees as the cave was wide, not tall. We even ate our lunches inside the cave. It kept our interest for days. When the weather got warm enough to melt the snow, our ice cave lasted the longest of any of the snow piles along the road. The top melted first so we could see all the rooms then the walls got smaller and smaller and soon enough nothing was left. I think that one was the best snow cave we ever made.

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“When the bold branches Bid farewell to rainbow leaves – Welcome wool sweaters.”

November 8, 2011

Glorious comes to mind in describing today. It is warm and beautiful. Earlier, at 9, I had a library board meeting then came home and went to the deck and filled the bird feeders. I then stayed outside a while in the sunshine and watched Gracie in the yard. She is enjoying the day as much as I am.

Lately I have had the urge to bake and have been going through cookbooks. I always used to bake, more during the holidays of course, but I would also spend a Saturday in the kitchen making my favorite chocolate cake, the family’s whoopie pie recipe or some cookies I might have been waiting to try. I think I’m going to bake this week. I want the house to fill with all those wonderful aromas wafting from the oven. Maybe I’ll give pumpkin whoopie pies a try. I’ll let you know.

The older I get, the more the cold and heat bother me. I think I am becoming a spring and fall person, especially a fall person. My sister chuckled that in all my pictures from Ghana, my head was soaked from sweat. She was absolutely right. This time of year I never used to wear a sweatshirt around the house or socks on my feet, but now I wear them all the time. Oddly enough, though, I don’t wear a winter coat. My sweatshirt seems to suffice, and besides, I am seldom out long enough to feel the cold. It’s a run from the house to the car or the store to a car.

At night, in winter, the animals and a quilt keep me more than warm enough. I wear a t-shirt to bed and though the temperature is set at 62° I am never cold.

My heat is programmed so when I get up the house is warm, but I still put on my flannel pants, my sweatshirt and my socks and slippers., and now I’m beginning to think I might have to add mittens to my winter ensemble.

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“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

August 22, 2011

The day is beautiful with a cool breeze and no blasted humidity. The pages of the papers waved in the breeze and needed something to hold down them as I sat on the deck to read. I noticed, when I was outside, that the spawns have stripped two feeders of their seeds so I have to pick up some more today. Yesterday I picked up the animals’ food and treats, that would for Miss Gracie and the Misses Fern and Maddie, which means one item on my before I go list is crossed off.

Being engrossed in a book lets time pass without my noticing so I bought a new book yesterday. Maybe a couple of days will go by without my counting the hours. This last week of waiting is killing me. I think I have everything that isn’t clothing all set to go and ready to be packed except for the last minute recharging of my iPad. When I tested the e-mail on it yesterday, it wouldn’t send so I had to reconfigure. It then sent just fine. I doubt I’ll have much chance to use the e-mail as wi-fi is pretty uncommon, but I wanted to be set just in case. You’ll have to check here every three days or so as I do hope to post.

The first time I was ever away from my parents for more than a night or two was when I went to college. Being eighteen and as brash as most eighteen year olds are, leaving was no big deal, but I was secretly reassured as my parents were always just a phone call and a few hours away. I don’t remember when I went home for my first weekend, but I don’t think it was all that soon. What I remember most about that weekend is when I walked into the living room the house seemed strangely different, almost as if I were the guest. Maybe that was the first sign we all have that we are starting to pull away into adulthood, into our own lives. I know as I got older I came home from college less and less, except, of course, for summers.

I figure the pulling away was natural, and we all did it maybe without even realizing why. Later, when I was really far away on my own, I did just fine. It was all that practice during college.

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“Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”

April 12, 2011

The weather is the same as yesterday with clouds, but the sun has been playing some peek-a-boo and might just surprise us. It’s 56°. I never did go anywhere yesterday despite my good intentions; I just played at being a sloth, but this morning I have already been to a meeting and gone to have my blood drawn. Three more errands are on the list, and I’ll leave as soon as I finish here. I never can pass up these bursts of energy.

The birds are back. I am forgiven for leaving the feeders empty for so long. There are my usual visitors: titmice, chickadees, goldfinches and nuthatches. Did I mention the red spawn of Satan? It gets into my smaller feeder and settles in for a lavish feast. I tiptoe over and scare it to the ground. I did leave more peanuts for them yesterday and watched as the red spawn dined al fresco. I filled the suet feeder but the woodpeckers haven’t been there yet. They seem to prefer the wood on the side of my house.

In Marrakesh, cranes nest along ancient walls. I sat one afternoon having coffee and watched them coming and going. It was fascinating. Strangely I don’t remember seeing many Ghanaian birds except Guinea fowl and vultures. The vultures made me think of all those movies where they circle the dead bodies and wait for dinner. I remember sitting at the compound of my Ghanaian father’s wives and seeing vultures walking around. I was mesmerized, but after a while, they just became part of the landscape.

Every morning, when I go get the papers, I can hear the birds greeting the day. It is such a welcome sound that I always stand and listen for a bit. They make me believe that soon enough the days will get warmer, and I’ll sit on the deck while the birds swoop in and out over my head to get to the feeders. They make me feel optimistic. If I could whistle a happy tune, I probably would. Come to think of it, I may just anyway.

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