Robins pipe a shrill warning whenever I enter the yard, freezing rabbits and squirrels and warblers mid-meal.
Their tense silence intensifies the pear tree’s rattle, the dry wind-notes that flash red and gold in chilly sunshine.
Perhaps an early snow will muffle it all, an icy blanket for the long dark hours ahead…
For me, winter starts when I cut the ginger lilies.
So today, even though it was warm enough to open the windows, winter arrived in the yard. Our forecast calls for temperatures near freezing Saturday night, and I didn’t want to risk losing any of the bulbs to frost.
As I worked my way through the tangle of stalks, I recovered three chimes that had broken off of a wind chime and two birdhouses that had fallen during one of the recent storms. Somehow, repairing the wind chime made me feel a little less guilty about the lingering scent of unfinished blooms.
The cats followed my progress, moving from window to window as I moved from bed to bed.
(Please excuse Vanna’s sour expression. She was trying to ignore the fact that there is room for two cats on that perch. Fortunately, a flock of robins arrived shortly after this picture was taken, providing a distraction from the uncomfortable standoff.)
The robins were soon joined by several warblers and a pair of hungry squirrels.
Today’s strangest sighting was this very disheveled red admiral butterfly. It seemed to be heading south, perhaps following the opposite path of spring’s massive red admiral migration.
Wherever it was going, I hope it gets there safely. And I hope it was able to pause, for a moment, and enjoy tonight’s beautiful sunset.
A sudden gust of wind forced one of the warblers to make an emergency landing on the fence this morning. He stayed there a while, fluffing his feathers and preening. His behavior reminded me of our cats, who cover any awkward step or fall with a bout of elaborate grooming, as if to say, “I meant to do that. Now, a little privacy? As you can see, I’m bathing…”
The pear tree is reluctant to release its leaves this year. Even so, hints of red and yellow are creeping in. More and more with each cold front.
By contrast, our Japanese maple seems eager for winter. About a week ago, it’s leaves flared brilliantly red. Then they turned brown and brittle at the edges. Then they fell, almost all of them within a single day.
Now rafts of maple leaves float in the irises and drift across the porch. They scratch against the door and whisk inside with every trip to the mailbox or errand at the store. They whisper that winter is near, despite the pear tree’s curious delay.
Most of the yard is following the normal routine of preparing for winter, but the Yellow-rumped Warblers seem to feel that winter has already arrived.
In previous years, the wax myrtles’ abundant berries have lasted well into spring. Other birds refuse to eat the berries, and the Yellow-rumped Warblers are rarely numerous enough or hungry enough to need the entire crop. But this year, the branches may be bare as early as Christmas.
I’m a bit worried about what will happen to my favorite warblers, once their food supply runs out.
Rae Spencer 