It’s been so sweet listening to our cardinals sing this summer, and now they have some youngsters exploring the world around them.
This one seemed particularly interested in our birdbath so I was able to get some fuzzy pictures through the sliding glass doors. He kept picking up and putting down catkins, splinters, and twigs, as if he was learning what might or might not be edible. He never did go into the water, though.
So, art thou feathered, art thou flown, Thou naked thing? — and canst alone Upon the unsolid summer air Sustain thyself, and prosper there? Shall no more with anxious note Advise thee through the happy day, Thrusting the worm into thy throat, Bearing thine excrement away? Alas, I think I see thee yet, Perched on the windy parapet, Defer thy flight a moment still To clean thy wing with careful bill. And thou are feathered, thou art flown; And hast a project of thine own. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay (The Fledgling)
These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time in them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less. Its nature is satisfied, and it satisfies nature, in all moments alike. But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present above time. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Self-Reliance)
Counting one’s blessings has a particular poignancy at this festival because, as we mark the longest day, we are reminded that from this point the year will begin to wane and the days will gradually shorten. Transience is a reality for all of us and so we learn that our capacity for joy and happiness — like an inner sun — must radiate from within. It’s worth taking a moment to ponder the mystery that at the height of summer winter plants its own seed. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom
Keeps making November difficult Till I who was almost bold Lose my way like a little Child And perish of the cold.
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1080)
The first days of November arrived here cold! One morning it was 29°F (-2°C)! With afternoon temperatures around 80°F on the last days of October this was quite a jolt of weather whiplash.
I’m pleased to introduce you to Fred, our friendly neighborhood squirrel. Tim has been feeding him walnuts. Most of the time he runs off with them, presumably to store them somewhere, but once in a while he sticks around and lets us watch him eat it.
The gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) is hereby adopted as the official State mammal of the State of North Carolina. (1969, c. 1207.) § 145-6. ~ North Carolina General Statutes – Chapter 145
When he hears us opening the front door he will come up to the porch to see if a walnut will be rolled out to him. He’s not brave enough to come any closer — not yet. But Tim has a way with squirrels, so…
4.16.22 ~ Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center, Mystic
We got up early Saturday morning to see if mama goose was still on her nest. She was. We’ll keep checking. It was fun being out earlier than usual for a walk, before the world is completely awake. The nature center wasn’t even open but we assumed it was okay to walk on the trails before hours.
mama must be getting awfully tired and hungry
Papa goose was still on the watch. This time he stayed in the water so I guess we’re okay to take pictures for now.
My blogging friend Linda noticed something about Papa goose that I missed. Two white spots above his eyes. After browsing around online I’m guessing he might be a Canada goose subspecies, either a moffitti or a maxima or even a hybrid.
at least papa can swim around
moss and/or lichen clump on a branch reaching out over the pond
It was so peaceful and quiet. Even the birds were singing softly.
On the way home we decided to drive by Walt’s Walls & Woods. We discovered this open space in November and decided to come back in the spring to see the weeping cherry trees bloom. It looks like they are just starting so we’ll come back in a few days. Link to our last visit: here.
4.16.22 ~ Walt’s Walls & Woods, Groton weeping cherry tree
creeping phlox and Walt’s stone walls
creeping phlox
While we were out and about we decided to drive through at Avery Point before going home. Much to my delight a killdeer was running around on the rocks, chirping about something. What a sweet little voice she had! We didn’t see any babies. I can’t believe these pictures came out. I was in the car and taking them leaning across Tim and out of his open window!
4.16.22 ~ Avery Point, Groton
The sharp thrill of seeing them [killdeer birds] reminded me of childhood happiness, gifts under the Christmas tree, perhaps, a kind of euphoria we adults manage to shut out most of the time. This is why I bird-watch, to recapture what it’s like to live in this moment, right now. ~ Lynn Thomson (Birding with Yeats: A Memoir)
song sparrow near a thicket
One more stop, at Calf Pasture Overlook, where a squirrel was striking a pose on the stone wall by the parking lot. This fuzzy picture was through the car’s windshield. It seemed like the perfect portrait to me.
4.16.22 ~ Calf Pasture Overlook, Groton
Back at home my favorite chionodoxa bulbs were blooming by my river birch. I call them my little blue stars.
4.16.22 ~ chionodoxas in front of the river birch tree in my garden
Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where others see nothing. ~ Camille Pissarro (Word Pictures: Painting with Verse)
“The Time of the Lilacs” by Sophie Gengembre Anderson
The explosion of May-blossom, sunlight, and burgeoning life needs expression at this time, when workday commonplaces can be thrown to the four winds and the bright joy of living can bubble up within us with natural ecstasy. All who have waited at dawn to welcome in summer have felt the sudden burst of brightness that ignites the deep happiness of the living earth as the sun rises. ~ Caitlín Matthews (The Celtic Spirit: Daily Meditations for the Turning Year)
We returned to White-Hall Park on Tuesday, this time to take the lower trails around the pond and to get a closer look at the blossoming red maples. Hopefully these pictures captured some of the magic of springtime!
Let us live for each other and for happiness; let us seek peace in our dear home, near the inland murmur of streams, and the gracious waving of trees, the beauteous vesture of earth, and sublime pageantry of the skies. ~ Mary Shelley (The Last Man)
Newsflash: Some of you may remember me writing about Buddy, the 1,000 lb. beefalo who escaped slaughter in August and was still on the loose in Connecticut in September. Well, he managed to evade capture all winter long but was finally taken into custody last night! I assume he is on his way to the sanctuary in Florida… Story at the end of this post: in the woods again.
Not much else to report, except that we are having a winter-like nor’easter for weather today. Nice to be tucked inside, daydreaming about this enchanting walk…
11.10.20 ~ foggy morning outside my kitchen window river birch leaves in autumn
Latest statistics: New London County now has 4,668 confirmed cases of COVID-19. Of those, 33 people are currently in the hospital and 155 have lost their lives. That’s 1,212 new cases since October 24 when I last reported.
Connecticut’s positive test rate is now 6.4%. (It was 2.9% on October 24.)
Is your caravan lost?
It is, If you no longer weep from gratitude or happiness, Or weep From being cut deep with the awareness Of the extraordinary beauty That emanates from the most simple act And common object.
~ Hafiz (Someone Untied Your Camel)
looking forward to ‘finding my caravan’ again soon…
11.10.20 ~ last three pictures taken in Colonel Ledyard Cemetery, Groton, Connecticut
Self-improvement is rigid and perfectionistic, driven by beliefs, expectations and old answers, while genuine transformation is flexible, open to new discoveries and rooted in not-knowing. Genuine transformation listens for what life itself wants, while self-improvement imagines that “I” know how everything “should” be. Self-improvement is judgmental, self-righteous and narrow-minded, while happiness and real change are the release of all that. ~ Joan Tollifson (Death: The End of Self-Improvement)
It was probably inevitable, but we have just learned we now have a positive COVID-19 case in our condo complex. The news sent a chill down my spine. No doubt Dr. Fauci is right, we best prepare to hunker down for the fall and winter.
