March 3, 2012

It's a robin morning . . .a whole flock I think were robins swirled across the gap in the trees, like a handful of dark confetti thrown into the wind.   And there is north wind this morning, and clouds scudding in great gray drifts,  and much cooler than yesterday's low 80s.   The Mexican oak is loosing all it's old leaves to this wind.  It's one of those trees that holds on to its leaves all winter then drops them in the spring to discourage new baby oaks from growing up around it.  For a long time this tree stayed at about four feet tall, then one year it shot up several feet and has been growing steadily since.  I would say it's about 35 - 40 feet tall now.  Ike took one of its large lower branches but it made a bunch of new ones.  I waiting to see which one will be dominate.  Trees are amazingly resilient.

The ash trees are leafing out now, they are so lovely with their pale green new leaves.  They are the most "tree" shaped tree, sort of like having the ideal tree in your mind come to life in their shape and color and over all essential "treeness".  

I can hear so many birds this morning.  I don't see many but sure can hear them.  The robins with their cheery-o song, the cardinal and the blue jays are more familiar.  And this morning the sound of some bird that hoots like a monkey, a very excited monkey.  It makes it sound like we are living in a jungle.  It's got to be a big bird because it's a very loud, deep sound, but I have no idea what it is.  I might have to see if I can find a site that has bird sounds, I would really like to know what bird that is.

The clouds are breaking up and now we have streaks of sun that are going in and out as if a curtain is being lifted and let go.  I think it's trying to clear off, but not having a lot of luck.  Perhaps it will clear up more later.

This has been an unusually warm winter, freaky with no snow then too much, early tornados are creating havoc in the midwest and south, and we have had so few really cold days, and now such an early spring, mosquitoes in droves, and welcome rain.  We might as well accept that it's spring already here, no matter what's happening in the rest of the country.  In looking for a poem for today, I wanted something about the birds.  I found this poem that speaks to a lot more than just this year's robins.

TURDUS MIGRATORIUS  COMES TO THE ARCTIC

  There is no word in Inuit for "robin."
                    --radio newscast, 6/3/02

"cheerup, cheerily, cheerup, cheerily,"
our good old suburb friend the redbreast sings--
but this year whistles further north
than ever before:

    odd elf among the seals and polar bears,
    round belly stained as if by the crushed fruits
    of the tropical climes it came from . . . "what the hell?"
    the locals wonder, and look again, and scratch their heads

there is no word in Inuit for "robin"--
or global warming, for that matter, or petroleum slicks;
but old stories of cataclysmic endings
are still well known to the people there

"cheerup, cheerily--"
(at least that's what we always thought it said,
always the optimists in believing
the rest of the earth was happy having us around)

Tom Gannon

I wonder with this warm winter if robins are still flying so far north as to amaze the people living there.   They are welcome here, they have a "cheerful" song.  And the lawnmowers have started their weekend song as well, from now until the dead of our short winter there will be the background hum of lawmowers and the high-pitched noise of leaf-blowers.  Perhaps not as lovely as bird song, but every bit as ubiquitous!