Behind my house yesterday, there was a mallard duck taking a morning snooze on the banks of the little creek that is running quickly due to the spring melt. And the day before, a sleek brown otter ambled along it.
A little closer in, a pair of hungry yellow-eyed grackles greedily gobbled down seeds in a recently filled bird feeder. They’re part of a whole flock that arrived this week. They’ve temporarily scared away the songbirds – although by afternoon, I could hear them singing in the distance again — while the rest of the flock perched high up on the bare limbs of the birch trees.
The snow is finally disappearing from my garden thanks to a few above-freezing days and some rain, and I’m eager to see the fruits of several hours spent last fall planting bulbs. But when I brush away the last of the decomposing leaves, I don’t see early signs of growth yet, so the migrating grackles will have to do.
March break is drawing to a close and we’re in the season of Lent, so spring must be on its way. But it’s hard to tell by looking outside – or looking at the weather. At the curb, several inches of ice remain from the multiple rapid thaw-rain-freeze cycles we’ve had this winter. And although the amount of mud along the side of the ravines suggests things are warming up, the snow in the air today during a nice hike with my son tells another tale.
I spent some time on the other side of the garden fence this afternoon, looking in vain for tiny green tips pushing out of the frozen ground. I may never find them, if the state of my dormant bushes is any indication. There have clearly been some very hungry bunnies (and other mammals?) back there, stripping bark and nibbling off ends of tender young branches. My fingers are crossed that some of what I planted back there will actually survive.
While I was back there, I watched a squirrel scamper across the creek on a newly fallen tree, which made a nice bridge for him to cross. There’s another one a little further downstream. It made me wonder if there’s a new critter in the ’hood chopping them down. Only time will tell.
I remind myself that it always shows one last time the first week of April, near my daughter’s birthday, so old man winter isn’t quite done with us yet. So, until the warm breezes of spring arrive for good, I’ll have to sit with my book and my cup of tea, on my family room window seat and keep watching the migrating birds as they make their way back home.
