Ready. Really.

This is the last day of February, and thanks to the modern miracles of technology and the Weather Network, I can just sit here in the frozen hinterland and hear all about the warm winds wafting over Bahamas, the "thunder'n' woodcocks" in Ohio,  the balmy breezes off Key West, Florida.
But up here? We're still waiting.

Bursting with hope, and patient for the breeze that will unlock
these pregnant pods, and then bring me a Monarch's kiss.

While the band's bus sits.  Tired, retired and rusty. Consigned to the field.
Waiting for the rhythm and the beat and the pulse of the music to echo on a warm spring night. Listening for the crickets and the peepers. 

Lines have been drawn. Stones offered up where before there were none.
If you're going to mend me, and help me to delineate your boundaries,
then now would be a good time.
I am waiting.
And sitting on the fence is not a decision.


A scratch, and nuzzle, a whisper, a hug.
I'm waiting.

We see you everyday. We leave traces and tracks.
But you never follow.
Our trails will disappear, and you won't know where we've gone.
But we will be busy. And you'll want to know.
We'll wait for you in the still of the evening,
down where the creek meets the river and the trickle becomes our sweet treat.

And then one day comes the moment of no return.
And for a singular, frozen second complete freedom reigns.
The waiting is over.
And it's time to make a splash.
Bring it.


Wait for the Signs

 And then the day finally arrives when the sky falls,
the fog rolls in, and if you're a hockey player, you sit
on a soggy snowbank and know the season's done.

And if you're a porcupine, you go out on a limb
to nibble at some frozen bark, wishing it were more
like the size of a hockey stick.

Spring is starting to stretch her arms.

See more scenes at http://skyley.blogspot.com/


These Matter

What matters most?

I need nourishing food to eat.
Clear water to drink.
Clean air to breathe.

I need company.
A flock.

I need caring.
I need to care.

Peace within me.
And peace around me.


Flights of fancy.
And wings to carry me away.
And bring me back.


These matter.


Lunch is Ready

Having been away for the better part of the week, during which time there
had also been a significant snowfall, I came home to empty feeders
in need of replenishing.
First step: clearing a bit of snow off the porch...
One of the pleasures of feeding is that the local birds that overwinter get to know you. As soon as I step outside, they magically appear and start chattering away to bring in the rest of the neighbourhood who might have missed the fact that the two legged creature with big, bulky, funny coloured feathers was outside holding goodies in her five pronged claws.

No sooner up, then they're at'em. Shelled nuts for nuthatches, chickadees, woodpeckers, jays...they pretty much all love them.
Kids and peanut butter.
They're reasonably well behaved, and take turns.

'course if you have a wee beak, like a Redpoll, you don't have to wait for any nuts, you can go directly to the finer seed, like nyger.

And there's no waiting particularly, because it sprinkles all over the place.  
The nuthatches eat lots of peanuts..which considering the nut is almost as big as its little head is quite a good trick.
They wait in on line for their turns. 

and keeping an eye on all of the proceedings is PW, waiting on the far side of the tree, not realizing that the bright red cone is a beacon. I see ya!

Black sunflower, nyger, shelled (and often unshelled as well) nuts, finch mix, suet, and water- that'll do it and you too can have a flock of featherbrained friends- who frankly, are often more entertaining than  homo sapiens.