Winter's on the run

I've been under the blog radar for the past week or so, visiting Chicago and family. Because the days there were cloudy with rain and, no surprise, wind, it was lovely to be back up north to see the blue sky and measure how far winter had receded in my absence. Thus, these two photos this week as I scanned the skies. The first is the sun rising over the Mississippi casting its coat of many colors on Canada Geese rising. And who doesn't thank the Robins for coming back so soon!

You'll be than

kful for the opportunity to see many more skies @ Skywatch Friday.

ahh, adolescence!

Remember my experience with the bird nest in my geraniums and the mother House Finch coming into my apartment during a recent storm? I took this photo recently of the three birds out of four eggs that hatched. Last week they were ready to fledge. We went away for the day and when we returned the nest was empty. But look closely and you'll see them all big beady eyed and beaked with little pinfeathers all over their heads. I miss them.
Visit Camera Critters for more delights.

'nothin but blue skies'

caveat: all I do is complain about the weather. It appears that we have two choices here in the Twin Cities: cold and clear blue skies or warm[er], foggy and gray.

So, today dawned in the first category and I was itching to take a long walk along the lake. On my way home I heard familiar Robin sounds right above me. He was basking in the sun so didn't mind me taking his photo. Oh joy! Is there a more beautiful sound than bird song in the dead of winter?

Find more happiness in feathers or fur @ Camera Critters.

do not disturb!

Mutts/Patrick O'Donnell
As for me, I'm having a little trouble letting go of the holidays past. . .maybe because we're securely burrowed down in another Minnesota winter. Thankfully, in spite of the below zero temps, there's usually a bright blue sky. I can live with that. And I guess I can survive putting all the decorations away for another year. Its just the sweet memories that interrupt my intentions and my unreliable Libra laziness energy level.

In spite of the cold each day the sounds of birds surviving and thriving--chickadees, jays (red and blue), ravens and juncos--gives me hope and is reason enough to smile.

Few bunnies show their whiskers in the quietness of winter, but I've seen their tracks. More stalwart hearts.


See Camera Critters for more reasons to smile.
Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath, for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Chicago critters

I was visiting Audrey in Chicago last week where I was able to go to the Lake Michigan shore every day because her apartment is only two blocks away! Joining these shorebirds I found my own bits of delight as we all poked around the sand together.

Visit Camera Critters for more feathered and furry friends.

for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)

it's always ourselves we find in the sea

e.e. cummings

Keep looking up!

Have I mentioned one of the best things about winter in Minnesota is that you can likely have at least one day a week of sublime blue sky and intense, bright sunshine in spite of the frigid air? This winter has outdone itself in several fine days each week. Even better if the temperature rises because the hungry birds are more visible in their feeding and community activities. My hat goes off to the handful of brave families of starlings, chickadees, sparrows, pigeons, doves and cardinals. On two occasions a sky gaze found these intrepid visitors.

So, I submit these Minnesota blue skies to SkyWatch Friday's panorama of sky views where I'm weighing in coming in at number 342. Stop by and be amazed!

Happy Friday!

that same ole' sky

Two different views of the same sky from inside the botanical gardens I visited in St. Paul last week. On the left is a bird's eye view from the new rainforest exhibit called Tropical Encounters.

The sky's reflection falls on a lovely fountain statue is from the Sunken Garden's winter flower show.

See more sky views here.

Happy Friday!

They never call, they never write!

Today's walk around Island Lake was my first in a week or so due to the leaf mold, ragweed and goldenrod that had been kicking my butt. And there's only so much closed captioned t.v. one can watch at the gym. As luck would have it, we had a freeze last night so that it was 37 degrees when I walked this morning.

My little part of the world had really changed in ten days with many leaf-less trees and a lot more open meadows. The small orchard area that I've photographed often is now nearly empty with just a few frozen apples left on the top of trees. The spot where I've been seeing deer is wide open to a marshy area now. A bittersweet melancholy was kept at bay by the bright blue skies and yellow leaves fluttering on tall birches. A handful of mallards remain dredging what's left of the algae. No sounds of geese now except for the noisy intermittent flyovers each day. The herons and egrets have been gone for a couple of weeks so that even the little pond across from our apartment is deserted and quiet. Yet, life is good.On the bright side, the over-wintering Chickadees were out in full force as well as the screaming Blue Jays, Downy Woodpeckers and a migrating Sandpiper was peeping along the lake's edge. A few Robins, Grackles and Red-wing Blackbirds are still feeding. And I saw my first Junco of the season! Life is good indeed! I purposed right then and there that I would get a jump on my new year's resolutions. I will spend time during the long winter ahead learning about bird migration. Since my little feathered friends don't send post cards, at least I'll have a better idea about where they've been when they come back in the spring.

Note to self: Remember that the seasons pass swiftly, even the wintertime. It will be helpful to recall,

But as for me, I will always have hope. . .Psalm 71:14,

& Emily Dickinson's words:

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all. . .

Sky Watch Friday from a Danish Minnesota

'Yes, I will go with you!' said Thumbelina. She sat on his back, put her feet on his outstretched wings, and fastened her sash to one of his strongest feathers. Then the swallow soared into the air over forests and over lakes, high up over the great mountains that are always capped with snow. When Thumbelina felt cold in the chill air, she crept under the bird's warm feathers, with only her little head stuck out to watch all the wonderful sights below.

Just a bit of whimsy from my favorite fairy tale growing up, Hans Christian Andersen's Tommelise [Thumbelina]. Illustration from Andersen's Stories for the Household., A. W. Bayes, illustrator. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1889. These chattering swallows seemed to be retelling the story this week.

Visit more sky photos from around the world at Skywatch Friday. Happy Friday!

Camera Critters #16

I see this guy whenever I round the bend of the lake on my morning walk--he's usually flying by or flitting from tree to tree. Secretly I'd like to think he's happy I've come by again, but most likely I'm a bother. One day, though, he stopped on this boating sign and chirped loudly as only a Red Wing Blackbird can.

Check out the official Camera Critters site hosted by Misty Dawn for more critters--or join in the fun.

What's great and blue and wears a size 14?

In honor of Camera Critter's, I offer you the stealthy Great Blue Heron--ever the jaunty yet mysterious guy about the lake. I caught him with my trusty low-power camera from behind a tree, even though I think he might actually enjoy the attention!
See more fur and feathers at Misty Dawn's Camera Critters.

Sky Watch Friday

A vivid example of the kind of sky we've been having lately: polished aluminum gray atop gray water. But in spite of the monochromatic landscape, little creatures can find something to sing about. A good lesson.

This view of Como Lake in St. Paul sponsored by Sky Watch Friday. To see more watched skies, ask for Tom.

Be still, my heart!

I heard you call this morning
And I remember how your red epaulets
Quiver with each chorus.
You’re back!

Intrepid and weightless,
Eyes on the night
You’re like adult children returning from school.
Is this home or are you coming from home?

Overhead your wings push out a formation
Then land on dollops of ice and water--
The yin and yan of many lakes’
Spreading girth.

Remembering, I laugh out loud
And welcome the healing
In your clever industry
And your lusty song.

When thou seest an eagle,

thou seest a portion of genius;

lift up thy head!

William Blake

word-less Wednesday

' Summer's gone but a lot goes on forever. '

A Black-capped Chickadee has been hovering around the autumn remants of my little slab garden the past couple of days. This guy keeps flitting from bamboo sticks to tall plants to somewhere so near the window it seems he might gotten in somehow. Today I took a better look and found my feathered friend's focus -- the dried seeds from the mini-sunflower Caroline gave me at the beginning of the season. Of course, I overwatered the plant and, alas, it would certainly have lived longer in the deep dark earth. . .luckily I had the foresight to capture it on film before execution day. Then I had absent-mindedly stuck it behind my 'gate' to dry. Chickadees are a favorite of mine and I was delighted to know they hang around Minnesota year round. Their dee-deeing reminds me of an experience I had many years ago. That's a story for another day, but suffice it to say that when I hear them I know God is watching over me.

Speaking of birds, I heard about a community garden called the Hua Mei Bird Garden in the Sara Delano Roosevelt Park in New York City's Chinatown. It seems that early each morning, Chinese men bring songbirds, including the garden's namesake, the scrappy little Chinese Hua Mei, in fancy bamboo cages. In 1993 legend has it that three Chinese men hung birdcages between two trees in this park because they wanted to establish a bird garden like the ones in their homeland. A segment on NPR's All Things Considered in August includes some of the sounds in the park on a Saturday morning.

Enchanting.

"On weekdays, a dozen songbirds can be heard in the park, on weekends as many as 50. Most of the men who come to listen to them are retired; the oldest are in their late 80's. We are old men. We like bringing the birds and drinking the coffee. We feel better.” (NYTimes-July/2007)

A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song. Chinese Proverb

Happy Weekend!