It’s cold and food is getting scarce. Many birds are moving restlessly around the neighborhood, feeding in groups. There are suddenly robins in abundance. Juncos too. I don’t know if any of the birds are headed south but some might become part of larger flocks that fly as far as Mexico to find more agreeable weather for the winter. They’re fun to watch but these cold days I do most of my watching through the windows.I wrote a poem about the birds this time of year for THE PURCHASE OF SMALL SECRETS, published in the 1990s’.
to the lawns
like black leaves
is the leader?
is in charge?
was the signal?
missed the vote
same as always
(c) 1998 David L Harrison, all rights reserved
Yesterday morning I looked out a kitchen window to our back yard and at the solitary figure of our once majestic maple tree. It now stands bare, stripped of its limbs, enduring the slow, public ignominy of losing its remaining bark. Rotting pieces lie around its base, adding a somber setting to the process. One day before long the trunk will stand like a statue to its former self and will be beautiful again. Not yet though. I look at it often and wish it good speed.
Yesterday morning I saw something different around the old tree, two things. One, the sun pointed out a spider web glistening from a brick pillar toward some distant anchor point.
Two, a dandelion stood among the shards of decaying bark at the base of the tree. And those observations were related. The dead tree, the dandelion, and the spider were all part of the same picture. You can’t see it because of my inadequate effort to shoot through glass, but one end of a web strand is attached to a dandelion stem! Imagine how much else we don’t know about the world around us.
I got in some sneak-writing yesterday and it made up for the slow week. All turned out according to schedule so I’m a happy guy.
On a sadder note, it’s time to have the pool covered. Leaves are blowing in faster than we can scoop them out. How I miss the time of year when there’s so much life and spontaneity around the water. I’m already dreaming about next spring.
Enjoy the day. Pay no attention to the old grump at Goose Lake.