I was staring out the patio doors this morning thinking about taking a walk, when three separate times a torrent of ice balls poured down onto the deck, as if God were salting the earth. Each one hit the wood, popped up and out in all directions like sparks, then eventually dissolved and disappeared. Earlier I noticed it was dark as dusk in the house and wondered if there was a tornado brewing somewhere. Eventually, the falling ice turned into another rain drizzle, so I decided to tough it out and walk to the mailbox to turn in my Netflix DVD, then go exploring (maybe even wind up with a bunch of munchkins…I could only hope).
The ground was obviously saturated from yesterday’s steady shower, so I donned some thick socks and my “wellies,” which made the long trek back up the steep, soggy, gravel road a bit more exhilarating than usual. The gray sky began to show inklings of blue, and by the time I made it to the woods, the sun was completely exposed, making every wet leaf, dark branch and rock, more solid and real in my eyes. Then instantly, like some kind of game, it was hidden again.
My walk on the Refresher Course didn’t yield any other out of the ordinary finds at ground or eye level. But back at the house, up and over the hills, the sky quietly displayed a drama of dark billows and silver sun rays blasting out of clear blue openings in the clouds. For just a moment, it held, then floated east, changing into a single saturated backdrop that restrained so much light behind it, I could not bear looking up for long.
Now I sit here at my desk feeling the lightness that comes from clearing your head and lungs on a good hike, and wondering which way the day will go. Out the window to my right, the sky is overcast and dotted with more gray clouds. Out the patio doors on my left, the deck is lit with sunshine and that backdrop is unveiling a few small ponds of cerulean sky. Fickle afternoon?
The nest boxes (originally for bluebirds) that we put up March of 2009 are finally getting some action! Several weeks ago, I watched as a pair of Tree Swallows flew, circled, hovered and landed on each of them several different times, sticking their iridescent green heads in but never going fully inside. I decided that maybe the openings weren't big enough, so my very patient husband "gerry-rigged" a way to drill them a bit bigger. 
Last week, I noticed the middle (smiley-face) one had grass hanging out and when I opened it...a mossy nest...and eggs! But several days later it was not a Tree Swallow, but a Carolina Chickadee, coming and going from the box. That's ok...I'll take it!
...and as I approached the wooded trail-head at Spring Valley Wildlife Area, I noticed something about myself. For whatever reason, I was not focused outwardly at that moment, but inwardly, and sensed a slight physical change, a minor elevation of heart rate perhaps, the tiniest release of adrenaline maybe...the kind of change you might experience seeing a good friend approaching unexpectedly. The moment I stepped over the chain separating woods from parking lot and on to the path, I was aware of the great expectation of discovery and a settling calm inside. 
I love both the paths you can look straight down to see what's ahead, and the ones that curve immediately, so you are invited, by necessity, to go slowly and quietly around the bends. Whether linear or winding...other creatures on the trail can hear, feel, see or smell you a mile away, which is why encounters of any kind are such small miracles. 
Though the
y seem like carefree little creatures, birds really do have a tough time furthering their species. My new friend and I lamented about all the obstacles, both literally and figuratively, these diminutive, yet hardy, animals must overcome. And many times they don't. Between the millions of songbirds that are killed each year by outdoor cats or the estimated billion migrants that run into buildings or other objects en route to northern breeding grounds, not to mention the pesticides on lawns and crops, as well as loss of habitats to create said lawns and mono
culture fields...these poor little buggers are just trying to hang on. 
sure about is that when I connect nature to kids (and adults which is often even more exciting)...a transformation occurs. But this transformation takes hold only when the pace is slow (not destination oriented), when we look at things up close with binoculars backwards (not just trounce down the path talking), when we quietly engage all the senses (not be the noise-makers) and when we create a forum where the questions can begin to flow.
So far, 3 out of the 4 years we've owned Prairie Pond Woods, a pair of eastern bluebirds have nested on our property. The last two years they raised their brood in the old, weathered box on the telephone pole out back, and the other year in the old, weathered box on the telephone pole out front. Both boxes were already there when we bought the place.
Purple Finch
Angry Blue Jay...is there any other kind?
Male Cardinal
Pileated Woodpecker...at my deck feeder no less
Juncos, purple finch, song sparrow, American tree sparrow, goldfinches
Yellow-Rumped...an over-wintering warbler.
