Posted tagged ‘Bird feeder’

“You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm.”

March 31, 2011

The sky is cloudy and hiding the rain which will start sometime tonight and go into tomorrow. We’re getting all rain, but up north, they’ll get snow. It’s a nor’easter according to the weatherman. That is always the worst storm whether snow or rain.

The bird feeders are empty again. I swear there must be a sign which announces the menu and all the birds flock to dine. The goldfinches are getting brighter. I noticed a few the other day with real yellow on their breasts. In the front garden, some of my spring bulbs have flowered. I saw small pink ones when I went to get the paper. Color is so welcome this time of year when most of my world is still gray and brown.

I’m finding the long string of winter days is morphing into boredom no matter what I do. My pile of books is much shorter, but I get tired of sitting and reading and get up and stand at the door like Gracie does. We both hope for a little excitement. The other day I drove to Wellfleet and brought my camera, but nothing perked my interest. The bakery with the best cheese bread around which had my mouth watering at the mere thought of it was closed. I turned around and came home.

Today I’m going to the Audubon Society’s lecture about butterflies. I’ll write down the flowers which attract them to the garden and put a bed out back so I can see the butterflies in all their colors, their splendor and glory. The deck in summer is already filled with birds flying in and out of the feeders. Adding butterflies will make my backyard such a wonderful place to just sit and enjoy the world.

My mother was always the best at April Fool’s Day jokes. She always caught my youngest sister even though she was on alert. Our kid jokes were never very original, but we still laughed uproariously at our victims. One joke had to do with empty buckets seemingly filled with water which we’d throw on our victims. They always yelled anyway and called us names. They hated getting caught in the prank. We pretended to see dog poop on the backs of coats and jackets: poop jokes are most decidedly a kid thing. I don’t remember the last prank I pulled. I think I may have to spend a bit of time planning for tomorrow. The joke has to be subtle and believable. My mother will be my inspiration.

“What he had not learned, however, was this: to find contentment in himself and his own life”

March 24, 2011

All my optimism of yesterday is buried under a couple of inches of snow. I also noticed the bird feeders are empty again so I’ll trudge through the snow on the deck to fill them after I finish here. The snow showers have started again. First there were a few wispy flakes, but now the flakes are larger and falling faster as if they have illusions of grandeur. I don’t want to go anywhere. I figure I’ll shower, put on my cozies and read. I’m thinking an afghan on the couch.

I’m typing and reading out loud as I type. It is my way of hearing the words and proof reading as I go along. Gracie, asleep on the chair, sighs loudly every now and then. I figure she is dreaming of the day she can lie on the grass in the backyard and be warmed by the sun. The cats are upstairs under the bed near the heater. None of us seem to have much energy. Some days are like that.

I just can’t seem to pull my eyes away from the window. Begrudgingly I have to admit the falling snow is pretty. It is not supposed to amount to much, but this is March and this is Cape Cod and when it comes to spring weather, there are no guarantees.

The day is dark, and the light in here is on. In the living room, small electric candles are lit, and in the basket by the fireplace the gourd lights shine through and there are shadows on the wall. The snow is heavier now than earlier. When I started writing, I was feeling a bit bored and a little lonely. Now, I feel a sort of contentment: happy to be home, happy to be warm and looking forward to being lost in a book. Some days just surprise me.

“She calls it “stick season,” this slow disrobing of summer, leaf by leaf, till the bores of tall trees rattle and scrape in the wind.”

September 18, 2010

The sun is shining and the day is warm. I joined Gracie outside and the two of us stayed for a while. While she was romping in the backyard, I leaned on the deck railing and took in the morning. New birds were at the feeders, house finches. They used to be frequent visitors, but this is the first time I’ve seen them this season. While I was on the deck, I filled the seed and suet feeders with the last of both. I’ll be shopping at Agway later.

Not much is happening in my life. The off-season has settled in, and my days and nights are quiet: no more plays, no more dinners on the deck and no more movie nights. At first I missed them, but it really didn’t take too long for me to adjust to this beautiful time of year. The days are warm enough to sit on the deck and read, and the nights are comfortable for sleeping. I started browsing through my recipes looking for comfort foods and soups, and shortly I’ll decorate the house. I’ll put out the deep reds and oranges and the gourds and pumpkins of autumn.

Even when I was a kid, I loved this time of year. We’d collect bright red maple leaves and yellow oak leaves then iron them between pieces of wax paper. On the way home from school, we’d walk in the gutters so we could kick up the fallen leaves. I remember battles when we’d run and toss handfuls of leaves at each other. My father was never a favorite of those, all the more to rake he’d complain.

I think fall has always been my favorite season.