Anticipation

From my vantage point at the kitchen window this morning, I watch a small feather as it hangs over the front porch, then floats out over the yard, catching an updraft, and drifts toward the sky.  I wonder idly if it was from a Carolina wren.  They've been out of sight the last couple of days after some intensive nest building last week.

The site the birds have chosen is one they have used before, an old fishing creel, hanging from a pillar on the front porch, clearly visible from the window over our kitchen sink.  The top of the basket has a Carolina-wren sized hole, which makes a perfect entrance for those little bundles of energy.  This year, they've decorated it with dried flowers.

Both of the birds were involved in the building project. They flitted from the bricks to the woodpile,  which was only a short hop from their home site.

Last year, the two of them started in on this nest, and it was derailed by the titmice, but the way the wrens were going at it last week, it looked like they had put all of that behind them.

I've told myself that I wasn't going to count my wrens before they hatched this year.  Still, I catch myself figuring; the incubation period is 12-16 days, and the young leave the nest 12-14 days after they are hatched.  It's possible, if everything goes well, that we could see fledglings, at the earliest, on April 29th.

In the meantime, I need to reign in my expectations and be grateful for each day's wonders, like the little feather floating up to the sky, destination unknown.

Linking with Rurality Blog Hop,
Wild Bird Wednesday
and Texture Tuesday

Recycled Rain

Yesterday's rain soaked into the thirsty ground,

and reappeared this morning as fog in the valleys and foothills.

It coated the spider's web, so beautiful and deadly...

de-cluttered the forest... 

and drifted lazily across the landscape.

He draws up the drops of water,

which distill as rain to the streams;

the clouds pour down their moisture

and abundant showers fall on mankind.

Job 36:27, 28

Linking with Communal Global

Thanks to Kim Klassen for her lovely texture, Elevate.

Flying Jewels

After a very slow start this year,

hummingbird activity has intensified lately.

Watching them can be quite mesmerizing.

As they jostle for position at the feeders and flowers,

the air is filled with the whirr of their wings and their squeaky chatter.

The pattern of their movements blurs into a rich tapestry of light and color.

 Like bright jewels, they they dart through the sky with lightning speed,

but they are impatient beauties,

battling each other without provocation,

using their long beaks as swords in combat.

However brief the victory, for the winners, there is a sweet moment...

...drinking in that energizing nectar.

But they'd better watch their backs.

The ruby-throated hummingbird is the only hummingbird species in the Ozarks,

 and only the male has the distinctive red throat patch.

Thanks to Kim Klassen for her wonderful texture, Elevate.


Linking with Texture Tuesday
and Wild Bird Wednesday.

Trumpet Players

It's another hot morning, and I'm out early watering the flowers. 

The trumpet vine catches my attention; 

as the first rays of sunlight illuminate its blossoms, 

it attracts a crowd of small creatures.

Into these miniature versions of a McDonald's play station, 

hummingbirds plunge and drink deeply, wrapped in orange light.

 There's a quiet resting place for the chipping sparrow...  

...but the carpenter bee heads straight into the blossom to do its job.

I count off a full 10 seconds before it emerges. 

It must be loath to come out, enveloped in that happy color, but it has more work to do. 

 On its fuzzy coat, it carries pollen to the next brilliant blossom, 

while honoring the One who taught it to do so.

Water splashes by my feet; I move the garden hose, 

and with the small creatures, I whisper my thanks.





Praise the Lord from the earth...

small creatures and flying birds...

Psalm 148:7, 10





Thanks to Kim Klassen for her lovely texture Elevate.

Linking with
Mandarin Orange Monday
Texture Tuesday
Wild Bird Wednesday

Imitation of a Nuthatch

This young tufted titmouse has been practicing gymnastics...

...and wondering if it can grow up to be a nuthatch.

Thanks to Kim Klassen for her textures,

Let Go and If Only.

Linking to 

Texture Tuesday

 Wild Bird Wednesday

Camera Critters

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Beauty sometimes shows up in the strangest places.  

Butterfly milkweed just started blooming here, 

and there's one place I look for it every year.

Sure enough, it showed up again this year in this hostile environment,

growing right out of the rock at the side of the highway.

It probably doesn't long for another place of existence, 

as we humans often do,

but contents itself with bringing beauty to the place it was assigned.

The God who gives us life, 

and orchestrates such things as the time and place of our birth,

does so for a specific purpose:

And to those who seek Him, He gives a promise:

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

Jeremiah 29:13

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .



For my Original Bloom Where You are Planted post,
click here.


.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .    

Thanks to Kim for the use of her textures,
Let Go and Phoebe.


Linking with Imperfect Prose
and Texture Tuesday

Spring Whispers

After basking in the glow of the fireplace, 

winter has kicked off its slippers and cracked open the door to spring.

The ancient yellow daffodils are up a good 5 inches...

and there's new fuzz on the lamb's ears.

A few of the lilac buds have swollen and burst.

Inside, their small purple packages hold,

along with their bottled-up fragrance,

the promise of beauty and nectar.

From the pond, we hear spring peepers singing,

and late at night, under the stars,

coyotes join the chorus with their love songs.

Barley takes note, and is happy to curl up safe inside for the night.

Autumn arrives in the early morning,

but spring at the close of a winter day.

Elizabeth Bowden

Texture by Kim Klassen

R-Factor

The past few days, tufted titmice have been busy stripping sunflower seeds from the seed head hanging upside down on the porch.  They may not know that this action lowers the R-factor in the walls of the interior.

This same seed head serves as a hammock for 2 Carolina wrens, who spend their nights tucked inside the cavity.  Late at night, when I walk Barley, and pass them at eye level, the only thing visible is a clump of back and tail feathers, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch them.

Tonight I walked out on the porch at dusk.  They had just checked in for the night, and one little head peered out at me, unafraid, from her leathery fortress.

Three years ago this past spring, Carolina wrens nested on the front porch, and I was there when they fledged.  As the sweet things took practice flights on the porch, 2 of them landed on my lap and settled down on my well worn blue jeans, while their mother chattered at them from a short distance.  I wonder one of those fledglings might be the same bird now watching me from her night shelter.  And, if she is, I wonder if she's dreaming, on these cold winter nights, of lining her nest with soft blue denim.

Textures by Kim Klassen,
of Texture Tuesday.

Also linking with The Creative Exchange,
Deep Roots at Home,
and World Bird Wednesday.

Monday's Sunrise

At 7:14 AM, the sky looked promising...

But by 7:16 AM, it looked like someone had turned the lights out.

And back on at 7:23 AM.

Friday, 7:30 PM with Kim Klassen's texture, Lilly

Linking with Skywatch Friday

Two Lambs

Each year about this time, the first Christmas decoration to come out of our cupboard is this small pewter figurine of Mary and the baby Jesus with a little lamb at her side.  I've had it for 30 some years; having found it on a sale table at a bookstore for $5.  On the underside is stamped Concord pewter, and on the back, the signature Walli.

I've thought about that sculptor over the years, who managed to tell so much with so little; those simple lines show a Mother's devotion to the baby snuggling softly in her arms.

I love this little figurine, but more than that, I love the story it tells, of God who became a human being, who became a baby, to reach us, those children He loves.

"I came so they can have real and eternal life,

 more and better life than they ever dreamed of."

  Jesus, from John 10:10

For a collection of artful images, 

check out Texture Tuesday, 

or click the button below for The Creative Exchange.

Happy Thanksgiving

We all live off His generous bounty,

gift after gift after gift.

John 1:16

Robins are on the move.  Last weekend, from his vantage point in a tree stand in the woods, Don watched wave after wave of them pass low overhead, with red breasts lit by the morning sun, their mass darkening the sky.

This week, on a gray morning walk through the cedars, I heard the sound before I saw them, thousands of twitters massed into a grand symphony.  I stopped to watch and listen, and while Barley gnawed on a bone, the music enveloped me.

For this, and a million other gifts, we are truly thankful.

Linking with Texture Tuesday,

and

All These Gifts

Yesterday was balmy, and checking on my absent neighbor's dogs was a good excuse to get outside.  

The sun warmed my face as I sat on a stump and stroked Corby's hair, while high above us vultures traced lazy circles in the sky. When a gust of wind sent leaves crashing to the ground, pint-sized Jazz barked at them. At home, bluebirds made an appearance...

 

...and 2 Carolina Wrens fluttered around the dried sunflower that was hanging under the eves. I imagine they were not as interested in a food source as a future nesting site, since they've been checking out a basket on the porch, too.

In the afternoon, there was laughter in the kitchen as a friend and I peeled apples, trying to peel one in a long spiraling strip, like Mom used to do with her sisters. Later, the aroma of apple pie filled the room as we enjoyed dinner with friends.

Warm sun, dog kisses, friends around the table--an ordinary day? Not exactly. But then really, is there any such thing? 

Fleeting Splendor

Just when it looked like we weren't going to have much color this fall,

everything turned glorious last week, 

as if Someone had turned the lights on overnight.

Morning sun transforms a dogwood into fiery splendor, 

reminding me to observe carefully.

These days are fleeting.

Teach us to number our days carefully

so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.

Psalm 90:12

Linking with Texture Tuesday

and The Creative Exchange

Daylily Dreams

It's been hot and steamy lately, 

so today, 

I'm taking my brain away to a quiet hilltop 

where daffodils and lilies sway in a cool, gentle breeze.

Dream a dream of daffodils

And swaying lilies on the hills

Keeping time to whip-poor-wills.

A note about the fly:

I shot a series of pictures of these daylilies, and the flies were all over them.

For the lily, I cloned 3 images together, to get the focus the way I wanted it, 

and the fly was in a 4th image, so I added it as another layer.  

My husband wanted to swat it too, Joco, so here's one more image, sans fly, 

for you and Don.

Click to enlarge.