News From The Neighborhood

Things have been hopping in the neighborhood with the arrival of Spring. Along with the buds and new leaves on the trees, and the daffodils popping up all over the place, my wildlife neighbors have been busy as well. 

Remember the squirrel family that had a nest inside the roof of the upstairs porch across the way? They were dispossessed by a pack of grackles last year but I am happy to report that they have retaken their home and have been super busy cleaning it up and rebuilding the nest for the babies to come (did you know that baby squirrels are called "kittens? How cute it that?"). The other day I witnessed a feat of squirrel engineering mastery as I watched Mrs. Squirrel try to get a Y-shaped piece of tree branch about a foot long into a small, round hole. Talk about patience and focus. When she finally got it in I actually applauded. I have a little stuffed squirrel on my desk and I gave him a high-five for the ingenuity of his species. 

Not to be swept aside, the aforementioned grackles, having been evicted, took up residence downstairs so to speak. In the space between the floor of the upstairs porch and the roof of the downstairs porch is an opening big enough for the grackle family to move in. They, too, have been very busy carrying in nesting materials. The day after the Great Branch Challenge, Mrs. Grackle showed up with the longest piece of what looked like a length of dried corn stalk, measuring at least three feet, that I have ever seen a bird that size carry. Not to be outdone by her upstairs neighbor, Mrs. Grackle proceeded to enter the hole with the end of the material in her beak, and then, as if by magic, I witnessed the length of the stalk being pulled in inch by inch until the entire thing disappeared. One of the things that grackles are known for are their tenacity!

The blue jays have been out joyously playing tag in the Spring sunshine, the robins have been plentiful and in full voice, and a tiny female cardinal has been coming to visit every day outside the window. She sits and stares into the window and chirps away. I'd like to think she's coming to visit me but I'm sure it has more to do with my little stuffed cardinals - friends of my stuffed squirrel - that adorns the windowsill over my desk. Hi, my name is Flower Bear, aka Barb, and I adore tiny stuffed woodland animals.

Spring is here. After a year when we were sure it would never arrive, it has come and brought with it new beginnings and new adventures. Regardless of what else goes on out there in the great big world, Mother Nature always delivers. While our human lives might be undergoing drastic changes, nothing changes in the world of the creatures we share this planet with. They come back, build their nests, and do what they do. When everything else around us seems to be changing at breakneck speed, these are the precious things we can always hold on to and enjoy.

And so it is. 

The Victory of Buds

They're here! After last week's snow and bitter winds, I was afraid it would be another month until I saw them but, low and behold, they're here. And what better time than on Easter Sunday to look out of the window, looking to see which little bird was singing so sweetly right beside my bedroom, to be greeted by the first glimpses of green. The little spindly tree I see each morning when I sit down at my desk has its first fat buds poking out from the branches. The little bird that was serenading me was a tiny, female cardinal and it was her beautiful red color that brought out the green of the tiny buds more clearly for me to see. 

It doesn't matter that I get to see green all winter long compliments of the giant pines that surround my apartment building - not that I'm discounting pine trees. On the contrary, I do love them. However, it isn't really spring until the rest of the trees start to produce those sweet little buds and the first tiny shoots of the daffodils and crocus start to poke up through the ground. Living on the top floor, it is the tree I see first. I took it as a message from Spirit that it's blooming was announced by a cardinal, a bird often spiritually associated with the church. Some also believe that when you see a cardinal, an angel is near, or the spirit of a loved one. Once again, the symbolism of it all to appear on Easter Sunday is quite a wonderful message to receive.

Nature is full of wonderful signs and symbols if we just take the time to see them. Having been stuck inside for so much of the last year, my usual jaunts out and about in nature were few and far between. To make up for it I have been spending more time at the window looking to see what my animal and plant neighbors have been up to and doing more research online. It has been like taking a college level course in life. Now that things are starting to ease up, the time is coming soon when I will be able to get back out there and see the natural world I love so much up close and personal.

Today, even if it's just for a few minutes, take some time to really look outside at the natural world around you. Who knows what messages may be waiting there for you, too?

And so it is. 

A Season For Eagles

Anyone who has been following this blog for the last several years will know that I love eagles. In fact, I have been following a pair of bald eagles for the last 7 or 8 years. Thanks to the hard work and dedication of the Raptor Resource Project, I have had a "bird's eye view" of the lives of these magnificent creatures. Located on the grounds of a working farm in Decorah, Iowa, I have learned a great deal about life, and life's true priorities, from watching these devoted birds tend to the business of raising young ones and sending them out into the world with the skills they need, in addition to caring lovingly for each other. Human families have a lot to learn from these symbols of our country.

This year I was distressed to learn that the original pair of eagles I've been following had played a "bait and switch" on the Project workers by waiting until all the cameras had been turned on for the season only to switch their home to another nest away from prying eyes. Eagles will do this every few years to allow their former nest to air out and let Mother Nature rid it of pests. Sometimes they return after a few seasons, and sometimes not. Luckily, there are other pairs of eagles on the same farm and those residents returned to their same home complete with cameras working and ready for the highlight of the year ... babies! Or, as they are properly called, eaglets, but being a Grandma I prefer "babies."

This year so far we have been blessed with two sweet little ones. I am not familiar with this particular pair of parents but they are just as devoted to their offspring and each other as the pair I've been following for years. After giving the nest a proper cleaning and renovation for the season, the eggs were laid. Mom and Dad took turns keeping the eggs warm and safe from predators. When the first egg started cracking, Dad even brought Mom some food so she wouldn't have to leave them to go hunting. When she needed to get up, she would call for Dad and you could hear him answering before coming to give her a break. They are never far from each other and share in the child feeding and rearing once the eaglets are born. In all of the animal world, with the exception of wolves - who embody the saying "it takes a village to raise a child" - I have never seen such love and devotion.

With all that has happened over the last year, not knowing what the future will bring or what the "new normal" will look like, it was so very reassuring that in spite of it all, Mother Nature continued to perform her work regardless of what else was going on. Spring has come. The temperatures are warming, the trees are budding, the first shoots of dandelions and crocus are poking up through the ground, and the baby eaglets have arrived. No matter what else happens going forward and in the years to come, I know that I can find my footing, my foundation, in nature, and in the love and devotion of a pair of eagles and their offspring. May it always be so.

And so it is.  

In Praise Of Spring Cleaning

Some people may dread Spring cleaning. Not I, especially not this year. After a year that challenged all of us, and a winter that seemed endless, Spring arrived on a wave of sunshine, brilliant blue skies, and temperatures that hit 60 degrees. To add to my delight, my beautiful 14 year old granddaughter, Gabriella (or Gabby as we call her), came over Friday night to sleep over and, and on the first day of Spring, helped  me tackle the dirt and grit of a winter that soiled our spirits as well as our homes. Thankfully, my tiny apartment is small enough to get the most demanding chores done in one day. 

The spring cleaning chore I always want to get done first is to wash the windows. My home has been shut up for months except for a few days last week when it was warm enough to open the windows in the afternoon for a while. There is something about clean windows that look out on to a vista of blue sky and green grass that warms my heart. It's like cleaning out the sadness and doubt that had set in all winter and opening my heart to let the fresh air of hope and possibility in. Mother Nature cooperated and gave us lovely, warm temperatures so that once they were clean, we were able to keep them open to air the apartment and let everything and everyone inside breathe a sigh of relief. Of course the less pleasant tasks like cleaning cobwebs from the corners and vacuuming out the heating vents were accomplished, but it was the sights and smells of a spring day that made the rest of it a little less daunting. 

There is something about being able to see clearly that changes how we look at the world. This goes not only for windows covered in a film of winter dust and dirt, but of the film of doubt, distrust, and feelings of hopelessness that hide behind the windows of our hearts. Once we make a firm decision to wipe away the negative and throw open the doors of our hearts to what is possible, the world looks new again.

As for me, my windows will be open again today as the forecast is for warmer temperatures for at least the next few days, although I do not doubt that March will show her cold side again before she is gone for the year. But at least I have seen the light, and felt the sun, and know that it's out there just waiting for me to claim it again one warm, sunny day.

And so it is. 

The Wearing Of The Green

 

I love the color green, especially right now. All of our snow has finally melted away and the grass beneath is starting to perk up. Although there are frigid temperatures still ahead and more than likely some more snow before it's all said and done, there are more and more days when the color green starts to show itself off in different shades on the trees, shrubs and grass. Luckily, our Irish friends and relations have chosen the month of March to show off the color green as no others can .... in shamrocks.

Shamrocks are known as trifoliate plants, meaning plants who have leaves divided into three leaflets. They are included in the group of plants know as wood sorrel  or any of the various plants of the pea family. It is said that St. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, chose the shamrock as a symbol of the Holy Trinity of the Christian church because of its three leaves. For me it has a place of honor in the month of March not just because of St. Patrick's Day, but because by mid-March those of us in the colder climates are in dire need of something green we can fixate on, to get us through the next few weeks until the green shoots of the daffodils, snowdrops, and crocus start to peek up through the warmed, soft soil. The shamrock brings us that lovely shot of green and with it the hope that, perhaps, this year spring will come just a bit earlier and we will be surrounded again by all the lovely shades of green in Mother Nature's paint box. 

And so it is. 

A Different Kind of March Madness

 

Woke up this morning to 9 degrees. The forecast is for high 50's to maybe even 60 by Wednesday. Welcome to upstate New York's own brand of March Madness. It's that time when Mother Nature's identity crisis is in full bloom. Alas, nothing else is.

This has got to be the hardest month for me to get through as I've said before ... many, many times, which tells you how crazy it makes me. So I try to look for some little thing that will perk up my spirits and remind me that, regardless of how it feels outside. a.k.a 9 degrees, winter really will end and spring really will arrive. Enter one smart and wonderful 6th grade teacher.

Yesterday while having Sunday dinner with my daughter and her family, my 11 year old grandson brought me a package he had received from his English teacher. It was a bag of potting soil and a tiny envelope with some sunflower seeds. His assignment was to plant the seeds and nurture the plant until it could be planted outside. Once upon a time I used to volunteer at his elementary school as part of their garden project and we worked together on the school gardens together. So he asked me to help him give his seeds a good, healthy start. If a heart can smile, mine did yesterday.

What a wonderful thing his teacher did, not just for the gift of the soil and the seeds, but for the sentiments and the lesson that came with it. As tired as we all are of being stuck in the house for a year, and with spring just around the corner, I cannot even imagine what the children are going through. Think of being a kid, away from your friends, your sports, your sense of community, and the feel of real participation in your classroom, some of them for a year, while winter seems to drag on endlessly. Then, one day, the mailman brings you a gift beyond measure: a promise in a bag, a promise that spring will come, and that out of all this something beautiful will grow. That's more than some seeds in an envelope and a bag of dirt; that's a lesson on life to grow with. 

So I ask you: what can you plant today to grow into something beautiful tomorrow? 

And so it is. 

A Little Birdie Told Me

 

"If I keep a green branch in my heart, a singing bird will come."

Chinese Proverb

I came across this quote the other day and it really stuck with me. Having heard actual birdsong the other morning, even though it was just one bird who seemed to be calling to his mate, it gave me a reason to start hoping that I was going to hear more birds singing their little hearts out in the near future. Of course, I am as much of a realist as I am a romantic and know that, after over 25 years living in upstate New York, March is the month with a serious identity disorder, flopping back and forth from winter to spring all month long. The worst blizzards I've ever experienced have happened in March in my neck of the woods. Yet I hold out hope just the same that maybe if March comes in like a lion - which today's forecast of rain, high wind advisories and plunging temperatures would suggest - perhaps it will beat a fast retreat and the lamb will come home to stay sooner rather than later. 

I find that all my senses "spring" back to life (pardon the pun) at this time of year. Yesterday as I went to pull the curtains closed at the end of the day, I caught that special scent that soil has after a rain, when it has been frozen and buried under snow for so long and has finally thawed out. It is a loamy scent that calls to us old frustrated gardeners and teases us with dreams of snowdrops and daffodils pushing through the soil. My face felt the softer breezes yesterday even in the rain, the kind that kisses your cheeks instead of pinching them with cold. Last night as I was rummaging through my produce bin for a tomato to slice on to my sandwich, I wondered if the asparagus were out yet, that first veggie of the season that heralds spring. My taste buds began to salivate when I thought of the taste of them sauteed with garlic, oil, and some fresh mushrooms over a scoop of penne pasta, just the way I liked them. Each and every one of my senses were telling me: "Hang in there. Spring is almost here."

Maybe we will still get that March snow storm. Maybe that rain outside right now will turn to ice and snow by tomorrow. All I know is that if I keep that green bough in my heart, sooner or later, the singing bird will come.

And so it is.