“Birds are singing!” An announcement on the Maine Gardening group this morning sent me to the back porch to listen. Long wool sweater, the kind 70 year old writers who drink bourbon and hole up in their dark library to Awrite wear, would keep me semi-warm. It’s old and comfortable and has pockets I can lose my glasses in. I pulled it snug against me, refilled my coffee mug, and stepped outside. Oh dammit; scared the mourning doves off the feeder and into the maple trees.
Leaning against the post, I sip my coffee and listen to silence. Nothing. And still nothing. Finally, something like 45 long seconds later, a crow caws in the distance but is drowned out by a jake brake on route one. Wrapped in my heavy wool sweater, hands warm around my coffee, I look up at the thermometer. No freaking wonder my bare feet are cold. It’s 10°F. One chickadee belts out a “phoebe” and a blue jay squawks once as I head for the door. The songbirds aren’t singing here yet but it won’t be long.
maggie boineau
loved this!
Pat Mirza
Love your ‘slice of life’ musings. You notice the exact same things I notice and find interesting 😊
Bonnie
There is nothing better than sitting on the porch watching nature. We had a big snowstorm, so my feeder is packed.
Robin
I miss the birds very much. I dreamed last night that indigo buntings came to the feeder. I hope a mild winter and standing weed/flower seeds are part of the reason they aren’t coming to eat.
Todd
Lol…reading this I can hear the morning song birds singing.
Robin
They’re singing here now. Isn’t it glorious!