Spring seeing
Pear flower buds
I am riding my bike past Turtle Lake watching coots skim blue water when a large shadow strobe-lights the road ahead of me. I look up. White head, white tail, body a black feathery bullet, dihedral wings (Col taught me that term; it means inclined upward). Bald eagle. First: the requisite full body turned inside out gawking lucky awe. Second: I can’t wait to tell Dan.
Back home, I sling my bike in the shed. I pretend for a moment that this sighting is the singular headline of the day, the most important news to convey. With swift Mama-ninja mind tricks, I elbow out the competing stories: the unfinished taxes, outstanding dental bill, upcoming homeschool co-op day still to plan, ultra-pricey orthodonture in our future, groceries needed, who’s driving which kid where, Rose’s 64 pieces of easter candy that she fondles daily, we’re almost out of toilet paper!
Spring is like living inside a constant all points bulletin, except y’know, about evening grosbeaks SPOTTED IN THE CRAB APPLES, and apricot fruit MAKING AT THE SMILEY BUILDING and WHERE are the white crowned sparrows? Yesterday I found new carrot seedlings lifting two green arms to the sun. Daily, we watch crows, house finches, magpies and scrub jays scoop up sticks, deer hair and chicken feathers from our yard, off to shore up secretive nests. The evening grosbeaks descend every morning, a numerous club of yellow- and black-suited members, taking voracious shifts at our feeders.
This is the news.
Tune In.
Our peach tree is in full, fancy pink bloom; honeybees are back in business. The plum blossoms have emerged like twinkling, white daytime stars. The hops, elderberry, lemonbalm and rhubarb are popping out like electric green currents charged by the earth. Maybe spring is about hope, or maybe it’s simply about keeping your eyes open, believing this world is worth our attention.
Follow
The osprey are back in the nest. Every year I wait for them, like an old friend. After a (non) winter the male and female are doing thier dance. Flying back and forth, diving for fish, circling and circling. It’s a beautiful distraction from the mass extinction of the pine going on in these here parts. The rain forest is wilting before my eyes. Hope? I don’t know about that. But yes, eyes wide open. Observing. The osprey are carrying on. So will we.
sacred snows melting (5)
upon high country hillsides (7)
sound of skis on slush (5)
It is all about the noticing, isn’t it! Taking time just to see, to really see what is there. The weather is getting warm enough in the Pacific Northwest that I can bundle up with my coffee cup, my journal and my books and have some quiet time on the back porch when I get up. I’m trying to notice more. This year, after living in our home for 12 years, I finally figured out what a mystery bird was – a ruby-crowned kinglet was singing his sweet little heart out. And we had a Swainson’s thrush visit us – clearly a migrant wandering through, as they don’t live in our tiny green belt. Chickadees are building a nest in the nest box my husband and daughter made a few weeks ago to discourage the Bewick’s wrens from using my tool bucket for a nest. The wrens moved on, but I’m happy to see the box get use.
Spring here in greater Houston:
peak bluebonnets, swallowtailed kites returning, toads out and about, pine seedlings by the millions, elm seedlings by the millions…tomato season coming soon.
I love spring, born in spring, the apricot is blooming, my garlic that Mars and I planted in October is shooting towards the sky, our marriage is great, seems like spring is our best time, our babies love to be in the yard nearly all day, can’t beat it!
I’m back in bayfield, where spring is familiar, unlike Southern California. Maybe if I lived there long enough I could recognize their springy things, but ripe tomatoes outdoors in March kinda (happily?) threw me off.
I’ve done nothing much but sit on Jojo’s couch with my computer since returning… Except when some great flicker in the sky caught my eye and I realized it was a baldy!! So beautiful, I ran outside so I could watch it fly for longer. After a minute, I noticed below me another large bird, and something about he way the baldy was flying made me think the two were related. The lower flying one was smaller and all brown. Would it be the right time of year for youngns to be learning to fly? Browny dipped away to the hill, and after a few broad circles in the sky Baldy landed somewhere in what I think was the same place. Can you ask Col if they might be related for me?
While walking toward a flowering tree, I could hear an audible droning sound like a far-away two-seater plane. But it was the buzzing of so many bees working that tree. Instant video on the iphone for message sharing. More astonishing than this experience was the realization that it was a first. Just when I thought nothing would be new to me again. happy spring, Rachel and all!
Beautiful observations and haiku, y’all. Thanks for sharing your spring seeing.
Yesterday I noticed the lily of the valley popped up. Just now, I looked out the bathroom window and noticed the rain that moved in last night has made the strawberry plants go boom!
My favourite line: “popping out like electric green currents charged by the earth”. It’s not happening where we live yet but it’s coming. I can feel the first tremors. :)