Changing Weather

The ladybug doesn’t lie. It’s “unseasonably warm” today, but not for long. The approaching cold front’s humid gusts have filled the yard with hyacinth perfume, and an electric sense of unease.

On a normal day, I might see two or three seagulls soar over my yard. Today I see dozens. They seem to be fleeing inland.

An angry chorus of crows, as they drive away a hawk, echoes the air’s tingle and buzz.

The sky changes from moment to moment, from frame to frame. It’s unsettling. Perhaps I’ll join the dog as she paces and frets along the leading edge our first spring storm.

A Walk in the Park

The day was remarkably warm, and I couldn’t resist a walk in the park. Neither could anyone else, it seemed, because the parking lot and trails bustled with walkers, joggers, and bicyclists. Needless to say, most of the park’s wild residents were in hiding. Even so, this downy woodpecker lingered near the road, and an egret paused at my camera’s most distant limit.

Near the end of my walk, I stumbled into a herd of mourning cloak butterflies.

And finally, just before I reached my car, I noticed a commotion across the road. A large, mixed flock of warblers, chickadees, and other small birds flitted through the underbrush, staying long enough for me to catch a single frame of bluebird.

After they moved on, I hesitated, as I always do when it’s time to leave. My reluctance was rewarded when a pileated woodpecker flashed by and lit just a few yards away. She and I spent a few curious moments sizing each other up, then she went ahead with her foraging as I fumbled with my camera.

And now I’m home again, relaxing in my office. The dog is asleep at my feet, her arthritic legs and gray muzzle twitching as she dreams mysterious dog dreams. The cats are sprawled in splashes of sun, whiskers ruffled by a cool breeze that promises I will have to close the windows soon.

Soon, but not just yet…

Sunshine

The yard is fully awake, roused by brilliant sunshine. Every stem stirs, an audible creak and rustle, and the breeze feels like a contented yawn. I’m tempted to use the word “spring” again…

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From the Robin Archives

Today is one of those days. An achy, sleepy, over-tired day of necessary errands and unnecessary complications. An unoriginal day, tiresomely mundane. Unread books murmur from every shelf, unfinished taxes whisper anxiety, and unwalked trails sing a muddy siren song that I have no time to heed.

It’s a day to cover my ears, charge the camera’s batteries, and visit the archives. Here’s a photo from May 2010, one of my all-time favorites.

Point of View

It finally occurred to me, while taking these pictures, that I approach photography and writing from the same impulse. Every time I pick up my camera, pen, or laptop, I’m trying to tell a story. Or, at the very least, share an impression. And it always starts with noticing something. Today, I noticed a visitor “hiding” in the irises.

But how will I frame this story? Should I reveal its secret from the outset? Because the rabbit was not so well-hidden as it might seem, though I could gloss over that fact by photographing it at just the right angle, by restricting my point of view. A few steps to either side, and this particular story shifts from drama to comedy.

It’s an appealing metaphor, as I find words to be as quick and slippery as rabbits. I often end up holding a tuft of fluff, frustrated by the knowledge that something warm and alive has escaped my grasp.