Category Archives: Seasons

In the neighborhood, Pastimes, Seasons

Where’s the beach?

8 Comments

Spotted along the drive on the interstate in Pa. to visit Delia a couple months ago…

The shore traffic has started already; yesterday I got caught in a traffic jam on the Parkway out to visit clients… time to revisit the backroads to the beach and avoid the carloads of city people that take over here come Memorial Day. The boardwalk shops are open, boats have been unwrapped from their plastic winter protection, storm shutters are up and awnings come down… the summer solstice isn’t until the 20th of June, but this weekend is the real start of summer at the Jersey Shore.

I’ll be out in the morning at Sandy Hook to watch over the few plover nests that remain after last week’s storm washed most of them away. Wish me luck at that and remind me to put on some sunblock.

😉

Birds, Seasons, Whatever

Whatever… it’s Friday!

9 Comments

This photo of a Quaker style bedroom from the mansion at Walnford was taken a while ago; I’d meant to get back there this spring to search for wildflowers along the creek and in the surrounding woods, but haven’t made it there yet. The bluebells are probably just about done already and any trips to the woods now will be focused on birds rather than wildflowers. At any rate, I love this photo for its peaceful feel.

My *birding* this week has been sadly limited. Limited to a few minutes in the driveway as I leave for work and then whatever new birds I hear on the walk from the parking lot into the office. House wrens are back for a week or so now, but they’re not singing non-stop just yet here at home. This week I heard the first sweet song of a Baltimore Oriole and this morning there was a Catbird mewing from the evergreens near where I park. No yellow warblers yet or vireos which seems late to me. Probably I haven’t been paying enough attention.

I’m so glad to see an end to this week! I had such a horrible day at work yesterday and then today was such a nice day, thank heavens! I wish there were some way to balance out the bad with the good, some way to keep my client’s problems from becoming my problems, some way to keep it all on more of an even keel. I’ll figure that out in time, I suppose. That or I’ll have a nervous breakdown first!

Whatever. It’s the weekend and I’m glad for it. So… tell me your plans… Birds? Garden? Naps?

Birds, Dog days, In the neighborhood, Seasons

Bayside

9 Comments

Today was the type of Spring day I wait for… perfectly warm, a Friday, payday… and a chance to sneak off work early and hit the beach for a couple hours…


Because it’s nesting season for beach birds, Luka could only run on the bay side of Sandy Hook, but run he did! He swam some, too, and came across a couple mating horseshoe crabs floating in the flooded marsh. I guess this is the first full moon of the spring and the tide was very high, and well, the horseshoe crabs were doing their thing. Nice to see. I don’t know what it is about dogs and horseshoe crabs, but Luka barked and growled and was afraid like every other dog I’ve ever had.


He was in his element there, in the marsh, tasting the prickly pear cactus and chewing sticks after I tossed them into the water for him. He really wants to be a bird dog, I think, and he certainly looks the part, finally, when he’s in the water.


I had to hold him by the collar for a pic of us two… he was sopping wet at this point and had just run off with two complete strangers… such a friendly dog; I think he’d wander along with anyone so long as it looked like they were about to do something fun.


Speaking of fun… a girl after my own heart… searching a tidal pool for hermit crabs. Look at those wellies! She was careful to warn me not to be fooled by snails.


One of my favorite sunset views… the osprey platform in the far distance is occupied, as is usual, but the residents went off fishing soon after I arrived. Some brant are still around, but the calls of oystercatchers have replaced those of oldsquaw echoing across the bay. I found towhees in the holly forest, but no willets overhead, yet. It’s not properly Spring without the call of the willet.

Dog days, In the neighborhood, Seasons, Snapshots, Wildflowers

Woodland stirrings…

13 Comments

I made it back this week to the woods and the little brook to see the beginnings of Spring emerging…
There were just a few Spring Beauties blooming, hidden among the more vigorous periwinkle. The miracle here is in the beginning… the budding that is happening everywhere in the woods. The willows are impatient, as are the swamp maples with their reddish haze; both reaching from their winter nakedness to the early sunlight for encouragement.

Flecks of gold from an early trout lily nestled in the fallen leaves of winter. Here is beauty perfected… ephemeral yet timeless in its allure. No sooner will they bloom and they’ll begin to fade, a part of the process and wonder of the season.

Squill was the flower of the moment this day and the early bees were paying attention to its carpet of offerings, however slight their nectar. My father always claimed Spring as his favorite season and as much as I love the Fall, I’m seeing now how we need Spring, or our hearts need the Spring and the chance to participate with time and sunshine; to be a part of that partnership.

The photographer’s assistant was most interested in partnering with the forest faeries to cast shade where it wasn’t wanted, or to set his rear on the prettiest patches of Squill to compete with their handsomeness, or to sample the edibility of fresh Skunk Cabbage leaves… (“Ick”, says Luka.)

Spring. Have you tasted it yet?

😉

Birds, Garden, Seasons

Sprung!

7 Comments

I watch the Star Magnolia in the front garden for a sign that it’s ready to burst and become magical. It’s pretty enough in the winter; the bare gray branches make some interesting shadows across the sunporch when the light is right.

For most of the year it’s just a big green bush; overshadowed and outprettied by the American Holly beside it. In early spring, with everything else shouting yellow, is when I fall in love with it. There’s something breathtaking about rounding the corner to home and seeing first this haze of white flowers. The show doesn’t last for long and the flowers often are marred by rain or freezing temps, but it’s beautiful however short-lived.

Spring is slowly ambling its way through the garden here; forsythia and daffs are blooming, the quince is in bud and just Wednesday I found the purplish tips of Virginia Bluebells and Bleeding Hearts forcing their way out of the dark in Cricket’s Garden.

Peepers are peeping and Phoebes are back, as is one of the local pair of Osprey, spotted just today on its cell tower nest by the train station. It’s curious to me the way spring signs seem so long in coming, yet when they do come, the progression is so predictable and welcome and right. The world is opening up again.

Birds, In the neighborhood, Seasons

The warriors return

11 Comments

They left in the autumn of the year, a great army of legend. Flags flashed rusty red and steel grey, barred and banded. Old veterans did heed the call once again, their ranks, as with all armies, swollen with so many young. By battalions they paraded across the countryside and coastline, leaving summer behind to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

Their passage was witnessed by countless numbers at Cape May or Hawk Mountain. The thrill of the parade tempered only by thoughts of how many might never return. Then they were gone. Yes… some stayed behind; a rear guard to watch the homefront. Others, Northern Warriors, on their own epic passage, filled the void left by the other’s passing. Even with these, the world seemed barren, without magic or myth.

Through the long winter how often our thoughts have drifted to how the warriors are fairing. Have they found solace in lands more plentiful? Were their enemies too strong? How many will return well or battle-scarred or not at all?

Now the first breaths of spring stir the air. Though the land still sleeps, the promise is heard in whispers… changes so subtle as to go unnoticed. The distant regiments hear those whispers. It is time once again to reclaim their birthright, their territory, their home.

Those who would witness their return climb to the mountaintops (or find a local spot close to home!) and wonder at the adventures they have known. Look to the skies and cheer the battalions on their return. Look to the skies… the hawks are returning!

The Sandy Hook Migration Watch started March 15th! Red-shoulders are moving – I’ve even seen a few! There’ll be Broad-wings! Come! Bring cookies for the counter!

(Or me.)

😉

Garden, Seasons

First green

10 Comments

St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic.

Only some Borland to share tonight: “It’s all a matter of proportion, and of the season. Two months from now there will be bees and blossoms and balmy air, and so much green that one new shoot will go unnoticed. But right now the sight of a crocus poking up and a few courageous daffodil tips showing is reason for exclamation and delight. Spring!

It isn’t Spring, of course. Not yet. But those first few tips of green, that venture out of Winter darkness into the light again, mean that things are beginning to happen down at the root. We won’t necessarily open all the windows tomorrow, and we certainly won’t take down the storm sash or put away the overcoat and the galoshes. Ice isn’t yet something that comes only out of the refrigerator, and we still know what a snowflake looks like. But to know again the gold or purple chalice of a crocus and to see the green fingers of a daffodil certainly warms the heart.

Right now, those few shoots of new, fresh green are more important than a whole forest of green will be in May. Those shoots are a promise of May’s green forest and the performance of March’s seasonal miracle. March, when the hilltops are still as brown as December, when you wonder if you will recognize an oriole’s song again, when you think even a dandelion might be beautiful, needs such miracles.

Maybe there aren’t many such shoots yet. There shouldn’t be, in the order of things. Miracles aren’t a dime a dozen, after all, even this kind. But they do catch the hungry human eye and they lift the spirit. We yearn for them, and we cherish them. We haven’t yet lost our sense of proportion. We won’t, until May.” –from Sundial of the Seasons

The neighbor’s snowdrops are tattered now, but she has crocus! There’s also what I think may be a cherry tree with a sunny southern exposure that’s come into bloom in the last day or two. The star magnolia in my front garden has just started peeling back her winter’s velvet to reveal the pink-edged negligee underneath. There’s still only the fingertips of daffodils though. The oriole’s song is still a dream, yes, but the chickadees are singing their “fee-bee, fee-bay” songs. What’s the weather report from your neighborhood? Is it still snowing? 😉

Garden, Seasons, Whatever

Simple pleasures from the garden

9 Comments

It’s fun now to begin thinking ahead to some of the littlest pleasures the garden will bring; the hard part is finding the patience to wait. I’m not the most patient of people; I sigh and wiggle and roll my eyes through the wait in the grocery store line, lay on the horn too often when the person ahead of me at a red light daydreams past the green and generally expect instant results once I’ve put my mind to something.

A garden requires a lot of patience; there’s soil to be tended and seeds to be coddled and months in between the intention and the reward. Winter and its end, I guess, is a time to respect the process.

At any rate, I thought today about some of the things I look forward to in the coming months. I was sitting outside the office around 11 this morning, in a spot sheltered from the wind and the weak sun was shining on my face and with my eyes closed, I could imagine it June, almost. Imagination or memory, I’m not sure which, brought me this:

~the flash of a hummingbird investigating the blooms of red salvia

~the taste of a sun-warmed tomato or a perfectly ripe strawberry

~the decision to give up on the pretty fingernails (or the ridiculous gloves) and dig recklessly in the dirt with bare hands

~the feel of walking barefoot through wet grass

~the calls of osprey overhead as they commute from the river to their cell tower nest by the train station

~the delight in burying my nose in the lavender patch heedless of the bees

~the tickles from a ladybug on my arm

~the hot shower that soothes tired muscles after a day spent digging and transplanting

~the surprise on a friend’s face at the tiniest of vases filled with lily-of-the-valley or an enormous bouquet of peonies and catmint from my garden

Simple pleasures… simple things to look forward to.