Birds in my Hood

This has been an amazing spring for birdwatching. I've observed pairs of European collared doves, red-winged blackbirds, goldfinches, crows, sharp-shinned hawks, and a family or two of house finches -- all near my front porch feeder. (The hawks swung by to pick off a couple of those house finches while I was sitting quietly on the porch watching. Yikes!) And I have been privileged to listen to some barred owls, sometimes in my own back yard. Another yikes! Most of these birds were visible because I've been at home. A lot.

Once in a while, walks have been allowed. Yesterday, needing to get OUT, I went to a nearby natural area to walk and take photos of flowers and maybe birds. As it happens, the birds were out in force, and several of them posed for me. Yay!

Pretty sure I heard this Anna's hummingbird feeding her babies!

All right, not a bird -- but it was flying.

Just hanging out here, having a flicker moment.

Song sparrow in full-throated splendor.

Done! I'm outta here.

In plain sight!

Common yellowthroat kept chirping, but was hiding in the tree except for this one-second opportunity.

I didn't focus well, but I think this is a turkey vulture.

And now I can't remember what this towhee was saying...

Eagles in the Tree, Snails on the Fence

I went walking... by the river, where the eagles live. Mama eagle was posing for the paparazzi, but they all had four-foot-long megalenses that made me feel like I'd rather keep walking and see what I could see on my own.

Who knew that snails climb fences? Maybe to keep away from the nesting geese? There was a tiny narwhal-bird in the top of a nearby tree. And I love that Indian plum is one of the very first spring bloomers.

Some thoughts on my shyness. When I feel self-conscious, I lose most of my social graces. Sure, I can put on an act of warm effusiveness, but that takes effort and brain-energy. Those are the times when I lose people's names, or forget that I just greeted this patron five minutes ago. Ugh.

On the other hand, shyness lets me explore on my own, looking for the ordinary extraordinary details that are often overlooked. Like a snail on the fence, or the hummingbird in the tree just a ways down from the giant eagle.

Therefore, being introverted is a blessing and a curse. But mostly, a blessing. And I'm grateful. Mostly. Because I do enjoy noticing the little things. Thanks, God.

Because Theresa Asked for More...

For one of the few people I know of who checks in on the dogs' blog OF HER OWN VOLITION, here are some pics of my birthday-time hike with son #3 this fall. We were privileged to be able to take a seldom-open path down to the river, then went up the hill as planned. Enjoy -- and THANK YOU for coming! 

The Cascades are out there. Somewhere.

No whitewater was harmed in this telephoto shot.

Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth; break forth and sing for joy and sing praises.

Let the sea roar and all it contains, the world and those who dwell in it.

Let the rivers clap their hands; let the sing mountains together for joy!

Today's Encounters-From-Afar

Sitting on my deck this morning, I heard a dull tapping up in the tree. It was our birch vandal -- a red breasted sapsucker, adding more bird graffiti to the trunk!

Went for a nature walk later (I covered two miles in about two hours) and came across various interestings --

Eek! This looks like a bald-faced hornet! Thankful for a telephoto lens!

I'm allergic to yellowjacket stings, but such an amazing insect!

Loved being able to get this view of the lake --

Just for fun, I zoomed in on the cattle resting across the lake. It wasn't until I edited photos tonight and super-magnified them that I noticed this fellow's horns! Glad I was far away.

City Mouse, Country Mouse?

I've had a couple of fun photo ops this week and want to share them with... well, with anyone who still checks this blog occasionally. Thanks for coming!

First, a country-ish photo from a quiet walk.

Next, a citified pic taken on an impromptu outing in the evening.

But then, a happy combination --

God's creation, man's architecture.

My First Tattoo!

I am afraid to make up my mind. I'm a perfectionist.

These two statements form the foundation for my reluctance to get a tattoo. There may or may not be biblical reasons against permanent body markings, but I'm not going there. For me, it's my personal hang-ups. How could I choose something to place on my skin forever?

It would be impossible for me to choose a design, first of all. Should my tattoo be an image, or text? If an image, realistic or artistic? If text, what words and what kind of font?

Then there's the artist. Allowing someone to permanently  ink me would require my complete trust in that person's competence, artistry, and commitment.

Most serious of all is my tendency to dig at my own imperfections. One might call this obsession. When I write, I edit... and edit... and edit... until I choose to hit "send" and walk away. When I knit, I plan on making two or three dry runs at a project until I'm satisfied that it looks good enough to continue. When I draw, I compose geometric figures, because I cannot replicate the intricacies I see in my mind.

If I were to get a tattoo, I would obsess over it, learning every dot and line. Measuring, comparing, evaluating detail upon detail, until I realized the flaws. And the next logical step is to see only the flaws. I'm afraid I would hate the whole thing, just for the sake of one millimeter of ink.

On the other hand, random imperfection is the silent asset of the greatest artistry of all: God's creation. A mountain is beautiful thanks to the jaggedness of its ridges. Towering Douglas fir trees are not mirror images of one another. One bird has more red plumage than its siblings.

Yes, there's the whole body-image thing. Talk about hang-ups! But I am learning to accept myself as I am, not arguing with my Maker or trying to bargain with Him to remove this trait or those few inches. Either my physical being matters not a whit (because it's the spiritual stuff that endures), or the stuff that bugs me is allowed to help me to practice patience and graciousness.

          For Thou didst form my inward parts;
          Thou didst weave me in my mother's womb.
          I will give thanks to Thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
          Wonderful are Thy works,
          And my soul knows it very well. 

I have a pile of my mother's DNA, and a touch of my father's, but I have been crafted by the Master and it's all good.

Oh, and my tattoo? It's just a temp, a free henna opportunity that I get to smile over for a couple of weeks. See how it blends perfectly with my random freckles?

henna, drying

 

henna, top of wrist

Days of Well-Spent Youth

I never considered us "weekenders". Sure, we mostly visited our cabin on summer weekends, but we owned that piece of paradise. Owned it. Every tree, every rock, every high and low tide.

My grandparents bought a derelict farm, acres of woods, and several beach lots on lower Puget Sound back in the 1950s. They fixed up the house, tried their hands at raising a steer, and cursed the deer that kept eating Gramma's roses. All my aunts and uncles had a beach lot, and a couple of my dad's cousins came along and built nice cabins there, too. If anything, it was the non-family full-time residents down the road who were "outsiders".

I spent many, many happy hours combing the beach, digging clay and making tiny pots, walking in the woods, hanging out with my cousins, eating hotcakes cooked on an outdoor griddle, and digging clams. Oh, and watching Dad and my brothers fix the tractor. There was always a project to be done, and the machinery was never ready to run immediately. For me, this place and time were idyllic. (For my brothers, perhaps not so much. The benefit of being the much younger sister.)

Many years later, after most of the property had passed out of the family, my Aunt Margret said that she hoped all of us could hold some woods and beach in our hearts where it wouldn't go away. I think this is why I crave quiet, natural places and wild flora. I'm always going back there, to where life was gentle and the silences were companionable.

Following are a few photos from the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge. I had a wonderful, quiet, spectacular day there yesterday, and I'll be going back again and again in my mind. Hope you enjoy these little glimpses of our temporary home.

Looking to Sea

Olympic Mountains

THE Mountain

Little Singer

Narrows Bridge from Nisqually

December on Puget Sound

Wonderful foggy photo ops today! No Polo, just me and my camera and a hundred birds... and bliss.