Should I Tell Them?

Nah, I don't think so.

But get the snowballs ready...

Early Birds, Red Birds, Strawberries and Peaches....

Although I feel as though I am living inside a whirlwind, there is not much blog-worthy going on here in Nod.  I'm certain no one cares to read about tedious (and endless) paperwork, gravestone selections, appraisals, remodel snafus and delays, legal dilemmas, Rajah's ride in the dryer, or the Great Rabbit Invasion of Nod.

However, on the happy side of the road, I am planning my second annual trip to Country Sampler in Spring Green for an unnecessary stash-enhancement spree a stitching retreat (of sorts) this weekend and wanted to post before leaving as who knows when I will be back to sorts enough to post when I return.

So...onto Early Birds:

After almost a year of having completed the hooking on "Early Bird" (a design by Lori Brechlin of Notforgotten Farm), I finally got it bound.

The photo above is a bit dark, the one below a bit light...so imagine the colors somewhere in between. (The upper and lower background wool is actually a rich dark, blackish, brown, not black as it is showing.) I could not get one that was "just right" as it seems we've entered into the rainy season here.

The photo below shows the colors probably most accurately, although it is lying kittywampus across a chair:

And, red birds:

These cardinals have a nest out front.  Something about their faces make me think they look cranky, but they really are such playful, happy, things.

I've been in a baking/cooking slump.  It seems so depressing cooking/baking the way I am used to and used to do, when there's just me.  (Yes, I know...freeze smaller portions, etc....I do, but it's not the same and just doesn't seem worth the effort.)

Adding to my quandary, like in other aspects of my life I tend to get into ruts.  Sometimes it's salads, other times pasta, etc.  The fad of the week for me is strawberries.

Today's strawberry de jour is strawberry soup:

Although I'm not a particularly huge strawberry fan generally, there are times I could eat this by the gallons. This is one of those times.

Lastly, since I haven't done a book report/review in a while, for those few who are interested, here you go:

Go as a River by Shelley Read...

This is Ms. Read's debut novel and I have no idea what drew me to it, but I am glad I chose it.  The book was inspired by the true events surrounding the destruction of the small town of Iola, Colorado, by the intentional flooding of the Gunnison River.  The protagonist is a resident who struggles to run the (dysfunctional) family household following her mother's untimely death in a tragic accident.

It is a tale of love, prejudice, isolation, and resilience...and learning to go as a river - flowing and moving forward even when dammed.

...and peaches.  Yes, it's about peaches too.  😉🍑

I'm hoping all is well with all of you.

To those of you who faithfully visit and comment - and those who even only stop by on occasion - thank you. 

You make my world so very much brighter.

Little Joys

It's Mother's Day.  

I know everyone's circumstances are different.

Some are celebrating with, or celebrated by, their families.

Others are alone or grieving.

Yet for others it is just another Sunday.

Whatever your inner world view is at this point in time, I'm sharing some little joys of mine on this day.

Look close...a baby robin peeks out of its nest outside my kitchen window:

Not exactly a "joy," but they are pretty cute...and put an end to my trying to live trap the critters:

Magic in the night sky:

A gray thatcher singing his heart out:

The thatcher's song:

I wish for you a day of little joys.

My Little Jungle

I have never been to a true and proper jungle. The closest I have come is a few hours in a tropical rain forest in Puerto Rico.

I never did see a monkey there, though, and that disappointed me.

(No, monkeys aren't native to Puerto Rico but in the 1950's, some escaped a lab and, well, now there are monkeys in Puerto Rico...you know, that "lab leak" thing.)

Anyway.

We skipped spring here in Nod and leapt directly into summer.

We have been unusually hot and unusually dry, at least for this early in the season.

But for someone who dwells in a land with 7+ months of winter, my complaining lips are duly and properly buttoned.

Come along for a peek at my little jungle here in Nod.

{House Wren hitching a ride on the witch's cat's head on the cornzebo's weathervane}

{Weeping Tina Crabapple}

{Magnolia and Rhododendron}

{False Indigo}

{Miss Kim Lilac}

{Lupines}

{Baltimore Oriole}

{House Wren residence outside my front door}

{Resting hummingbird}

I wish you could hear the cacophony that goes on at times in my little jungle.

I did not receive the family gene that enables me to tell one bird song (or even one bird by sight) from another, but Miss Marly of Samplers-and-Santas introduced me to the Merlin app and I feel like a blind person who can once again see.

These are some of the birds that have serenaded me in my jungle the past few days:

And no jungle would be complete without critters.

Some less desirable than others...

and far more plentiful...not only slithering on the ground but dropping out of trees and bushes.

Gah!

  

My little jungle desperately needs rain.  Several days the sky has darkened with promise, but it seems the promise always goes unfulfilled.

I realize I have not posted about any "projects" of late...I have done a little stitching - no hooking, no finishing though.  But for those of you who are gracious enough to follow me for those types of things, I promise I will update soon.

La Famille Cardinale

This is a love story...or not.

 

{Apologies, for this and the majority of the other photos in this post. They were taken through a screened window of my kitchen.} 

I have learned so very much these past many weeks.

 I have learned about faithfulness, the importance of a true partner in this world; that there can be danger where you least expect it, that there are others who take advantage of others, that life goes on after loss. I have learned that the cycle of life can be both beautiful and sad, that life is better with a song in your heart, that things can and do change quickly, that "littles" grow up equally quickly, and that one should never, ever, become complacent to the point of taking things for granted.

Oh...and I learned about cardinals.

I am not certain where to begin, but perhaps the beginning would be the best place, no?

First, for some introductions:

Papa Cardinal...

If you read my last post, you would have seen a cardinal camouflaged in a tree in the following photo.  That would be Monsieur Cardinal.

Most times, cardinals can be a bit elusive (sometimes making one wonder if it was illusive).

But Monsieur Cardinal was a constant - and quite vocal - visitor.

{Trés beau, non?}

Had I been a bit more perceptive, I would have realized why the very trees seemed to bleed with song:

Mademoiselle Cardinal

There was an official courtship underway.

So, being cognizant of my both my moral duties and my legal duties, I married them forthwith.

Now, to be truthful, I am not entirely certain which came first - the chicken or the egg the ceremony or the nest.  All I can say is that things happened quite quickly, and I was relieved to learn that, unlike most humans these days, cardinals mate for life.

And soon Monsieur and Madame Cardinal were expectant parents.

{Although difficult to see, there are two eggs in the nest.}

I then realized that my duties did not end at just being the officiant and making an honest woman bird of Madame C.

Oh no...they had just begun.

I had to defend those little eggs from predators. 

And let me tell you, Nod may be the furthest thing from a big city you can find these days, but there are a great many predators here.

So, when I wasn't warding off these:

{Snakes...not concrete tortoises....}

...chasing off these guys:

...or trying to shoo these:

{A red squirrel just for you Saundra...}

... or climbing on top of things no person should climb upon just to get a peek or take a photo, I worried.  (And I bet you thought I was doing nothing since I last posted. For shame.)

But the happy day arrived, and the first little "chirps" wafted through my kitchen window.

But like "real" life, no love story is without some sort of tragedy or heartbreak.

There had been two eggs, but there was only one hatchling.  😢

I am not certain what happened.  Had it been a snake who climbed up there (THIS has happened, trust me...there is a post somewhere way back in my older posts that contains gruesome evidence of that), I would have thought both eggs would be gone.

But the more I pondered it, the more I REALLY started worrying.

Cowbirds are plentiful in these parts and cowbirds are notorious brood parasites - meaning they will pirate and/or destroy the eggs of another species bird's nest and leave their own eggs for the mistress of that nest to raise. 

And so I worried some more.

But worry just steals one's joy, so I put it quickly behind me, and watched the little one thrive (and studied photos of cowbird and cardinal nestlings just to be sure the nestling wasn't a cardinal imposter.)

{Love the little wisps of "hair" feathers on the top of his head...Think he had nest hair that day.}

I also gained a whole new respect and admiration for cardinals.

Papa Cardinal wore himself to a frazzle helping Maman Cardinal build the nest, then flying back and forth to the nest feeding both Maman and Bébé Cardinal.

It is also his responsibility to change the diapers (i.e., carry out the nestling(s)' poop sacks).  (True story...research it.)

During this time (assuming she is like "typical" cardinals), Maman had built another nest (cardinals do not reuse their nests) and started a new family, taking turns tending to her newborn and going back to sit on her soon-to-be newborns.  Papa, in turn,  was truly stretched to the limit flitting back and forth between two homes nests, changing diapers, feeding Bébé and feeding Maman.

And then "that" day came - the day Bébé left the nest.  I kept thinking I would have more time, but he grew so very quickly.  Like I said previously, there is hurt in every life and some sadness in every love story.  Papa and Maman, however thin their time was stretched, were there for the big moment. 

They took turns flying back to the nest to coax Bébé further and further.

And then Bébé was gone.  

I waited and waited for him to come back, but hours went by and he didn't.

Papa did come back a few times checking the nest, but no Bébé.

Finally, close to dusk, Bébé returned, by himself, to the nest.

He did not stay long, however, and did not, to my knowledge spend the night there.

The nest now sits abandoned...and each time I look out my kitchen window, I am reminded of the joy La Famille Cardinale gave me if only for a few, brief, weeks.

But, oh, is it quiet.  I had grown accustomed to their songs every time I stepped outside or opened a window.

The mockingbird is here still and sings such wonderful songs, but he does not know the cardinal's song.

The End

The Mockingbird's Song

"Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy.  They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us."   {Miss Maudie's quote from Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird.}

I believe a rare gift has been given me whenever I hear a mockingbird sing. I stop whatever I am doing to listen.  To me, they are one of the most fascinating birds to have been created.

Did you know that some older mockingbirds have a repertoire of up to 300 songs?  Some can even imitate other animals.  Yet, strangely, they have no song of their own.

Like the albino deer, a mockingbird sighting is considered a good omen in many cultures.  Some consider it a harbinger of good fortune and luck, or an easing of your sufferings and trouble.  Others believe it signifies a reassurance that your guardian angel is watching out for you and that you are protected.

Most notably, however, a mockingbird is interpreted as signifying innocence.  (Hence, the book, To Kill a Mockingbird, is symbolic for the loss of innocence....After all, why would anyone want to kill such a free-spirited, joyful, creature?)

{Sorry that you cannot see the songster more clearly, but I was looking into the sun taking this.  But turn your volume up!}

I know mockingbirds are common to some, if not many, of you...but, here, in Nod, they seem to be a rare treat for some reason.  Even rarer are the beautiful night time serenades they're prone to do.  They can wake you from a sound sleep and keep you awake for hours, but you do not begrudge them that. 

Well, at least I don't.

It's That Strange Time of Year....

It's that strange time of year...

 

...when tantalizing wisps of warmer air whisper to the frozen ground that it's time to go and eerie fog settles like tears....

...when sudden snow squalls can't silence the song of the spring birds as they feast on berries of bittersweet....

It's that strange time of year when, each and EVERY morning, some of us still think we have been gypped out of an hour of sleep thanks to "daylight saving time"....

 ...and we be none too happy about it....

And it's that strange time of year when the calendar, without fanfare or ceremony, flips on another year of my life....

I always feel "untethered" in this "twixt" time.  Like Mother Nature who does not quite know if it should be winter or spring, I do not quite know what it is I want to do.

Hooking? Maybe.

Stitching?? Maybe.

More likely just cursing daylight saving time AGAIN because I am not tired at the time the clock says I really need to go to bed. (So, yes, I really feel cheated out of two hours of sleep every day....the clock says it's an hour later than it should be when I get up and it says it's an hour later than it should be when I go to bed. My head is a scary place most days.)

In other words, I have gotten little to nothing of anything done.

I put aside my large(r) Noel Sampler I had been off and on stitching on (more off than on) and worked on a teeny little piece called "Winter Woods" by Chessie & Me.  The stitching is almost done except for another large snowflake and then nun stitching on the sides.

My hook I have picked up not at all.

It is windy and cold, with spurts of flurries coming from the lifelessly gray sky.  I'm off to see if I can revive Hepzibah (my sourdough starter) so I can make sourdough cinnamon cranberry bread.

I hope there is a corner of each of your worlds where you can find some peace and hope in  these troubling times.

 *******

Recently read:

If you haven't figured it out yet, one of my favorite genres of books is historical fiction: Two of my particularly favorite time periods are, of course, 17th century Salem and World War II.  The downfall is that many of the plots tend to follow a very predictable path and one story becomes unremarkably similar to others.

In some regard, this can be said of this book, but it was relatively fresh to the market and I couldn't resist.

 It is the story Jewish mother and daughter who flee from the war raging in Poland and go into hiding in a neighboring barn.  Above that, it is the story of the bond between a mother and a daughter and of the precious gifts of imagination and music.

While I, at one point, took violin lessons (another surprising piece of trivia I bet you didn't know), the music detail in this book was a bit much for my taste.  (Kinda like The Book of Two Ways mentioned a few posts back may have been to much "Egyptology" for some....)  Despite that, I enjoyed it. (But hey, if you haven't figured it out by now, I really enjoy most all books.)  It is not one that will earn a rank among my favorites, but that's a very selective list.    

  

*******