Enough!

Your Bloguero just got the text message from CodeRed. It warns of yet another winter storm, more than a foot of snow, extreme cold, and yadda yadda. This idea arrived embedded in the text: maybe this is the last big winter storm for this season? And maybe the next thing is crocuses.

Here's hoping.

El Pato Ha Vuelto!

Many years ago in early April I bought four mallard ducklings at Blue Seal Seed and Feed. They were tiny, and like most poultry in this county, they had been mailed with their siblings to the feed store when they were one day old. They lived in a crate and swam on the pond. One survived the nightly predators to full maturity. And because we wouldn't clip his wings, when Fall finally arrived, nature's plan took over. He flapped his wings, circled the pond, quacked a few times, and flew away toward the South. His name was "Tricky Duck." And he was a traveler.

Remarkably, he came back every Spring. He brought his mate with him. And then his children-- I imagine they were his children-- returned each Spring with their mates. And then his grandchildren. And their mates. For more than 25 years.

This Spring has been quite cold and bitter. There's been snow. There is still snow in the fields. There have been geese, but, so far no appearance by Tricky Duck.

Last night was cold. This morning was cold also. It was just above freezing. And then, a surprise. I heard him quacking. Tricky Dick's unmistakeable quack. Quacking to the dog, who is no longer with us, to stay away. Quacking to the sky spirits. Quacking aloud. Quacking for joy. The duck has returned. I saw him and Ms. Dick swimming in the pond. Spring has almost arrived.

I have posted this Tricky Duck annual event for many years now. This year, it was reported that Blue Seal in Chatham, Tricky Duck's original address, is closing at the end of the month. I guess we didn't buy enough there after we got Tricky Duck and his siblings. And now it's gone.

At Last, Spring!

Please forgive the geo-centricity. I realize full well that the summer is coming to an end in the Southern Hemisphere and that in the Southern US Spring has already unfolded. But here, in this wooded corner where New York runs out and Massachusetts begins, the mild winter seems at last to have run its course. There are no more storms predicted in the immediate future. And hope abounds that the end of winter may actually have arrived.

Today I went for a walk. I live in Columbia County, in eastern New York. The ground in the fields was wet but not fully frozen, the pond is still frozen, the grass is still brown, and it was about 40 degrees and overcast. I was looking for signs that Spring really was coming.

I know that the Solstice is on March 20, 2008. I should be able to find some sign of the impending change of season, if I look for it, right? I couldn't find it.

But this evening was a different story. For the first time this year I heard the referee's whistle song of the red wing blackbird. the bird was in the top of a bare tree. It was whistling. I could see the red and yellow chevron on its wings.

A Redwing Blackbird

If you've never heard the Redwing Blackbird, try this. The sound I'm hearing is called the "okalee call." It's about setting out a new territory for the year.

In this corner of the world, the redwing blackbird is the very first sign of Spring. Before crocuses. Before paperwhites. Before anything. In fact, its basketball referee whistle call usually coincides with the beginning of March Madness. The selections for the NCAA tournament haven't come yet. The birds are a little early this year.

And so, in celebration of the fact there is a sign that at long, long last spring is about to emerge, and as important, that the northeastern winter is on its last legs, I offer you ee cummings:

in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame baloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddyandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it's spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer old baloonman whistles far and wee and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's spring and the goat-footed

baloonMan whistles far and wee

Join me in gratitude far and wee for the coming of Springtime.

Jocund Company

William Wordsworth (1770-1850):

Daffodils


I wandere'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

At Last

Let it be recorded: last night was the first Spring Peeper. I heard it in the early evening, just after dark. A solitary peeper singing near the pond. Awake from its winter slumber, the first to sing its body electric:

The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.

And tonight, with luck, several more singing the sleigh bell chorus, all together. And in the next week, if I am lucky, an entire celestial choir jingling rounds throughout the night. To be joined by bullfrogs and dozens of green pond frogs, all singing out their electricity.

A sure sign of Spring.

Note: Last year, this exact essay ran on April 5, 2011. Today is March 14, 2012, so Spring is about two weeks earlier this year. It may actually be possible this year to plant spinach and peas on St. Patrick's Day.

March Madness

Please forgive the geo-centricity. I realize full well that the summer is coming to an end in the Southern Hemisphere and that in the Southern US Spring has already unfolded. But here, in this wooded corner where New York runs out and Massachusetts begins, the mild winter seems at long last to have run its course. There are no more storms predicted in the immediate future. And hope abounds that the end of winter may actually have arrived.

A few days ago the first redwing blackbird stood in the top of a tall tree and blew its referee's whistle. Over and over again. This tree, the surrounding area, all within his sight, his. Claiming it for himself. Even from others who had not yet arrived but who would surely follow him. Declaring his turf.

Every year the redwing blackbirds return in March just before the NCAA basketball tournament begins. Their return is the true March Madness. It signals that the end of winter is coming, even as the early green of the snow whites and crocuses rise in the dirt and the first blooms sway in the wind at the roadside.

At Last

Let it be recorded: last night was the first Spring Peeper. I heard it in the early evening, just after dark. A solitary peeper singing near the pond. Awake from its winter slumber, the first to sing its body electric:

The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.

And tonight, several more singing the sleigh bell chorus, all together. And in the next week, if I am lucky, an entire celestial choir jingling rounds throughout the night. To be joined by bullfrogs and dozens of green pond frogs, all singing out their electricity.

A sure sign of Spring.

El Pato Ha Vuelto!

(reprinted from 4/12/07, with update)

Many years ago in early April I bought four mallard ducklings at Blue Seal Seed and Feed in Chatham. They were tiny, and like most poultry in this county, they had been mailed with their siblings to the feed store when they were one day old. They lived in a crate and swam on the pond. One survived the nightly predators to full maturity. And because we wouldn't clip his wings, when Fall finally arrived, nature's plan took over. He flapped his wings, circled the pond, quacked a few times, and flew away toward the South. His name was "Tricky Duck." And he was a traveler.

Remarkably, he came back every Spring. He brought his mate with him. And then his children-- I imagine they were his children-- returned each Spring with their mates. And then his grandchildren. And their mates. For almost twenty years.

This Spring has not really arrived yet. Winter persists. There is still snow cover. The pond remains mostly frozen.

This morning was cold. Last night the temperature was in the upper 20's F. There are no peepers yet. Maple sugaring continues. But there was a surprise. I heard him quacking in the early morning light. Tricky Dick's unmistakeable quack. Quacking to the dog to stay away. Quacking to the sky spirits. Quacking aloud. Quacking for joy. The duck has returned. And he's brought with him his mate. And what seem to be a few of his children. When I go to the car, they move to the far side of the pond. The young ones fly off. But Tricky Duck and his mate just swim around in the shallows.

Almost Spring Haiku

First comes the dripping.
Then peepers, red wing blackbirds,
snow whites, crocuses.


What a long winter!
A season to make me weep.
My despair births Spring.



2/17/11

At Long Last, Spring!

cross posted to docuDharma

This morning I went for a long walk with my faithful dog friend. We live in Columbia County, in eastern New York in the foothills of the Massachusetts Berkshires. The ground in the fields was wet but not frozen, the grass is still brown, and it was about 35 degrees and overcast. We were looking for signs that Spring really was coming.

I know that the Solstice is on March 20, 2008 at 1:48 am EDT. We should be able to find some sign of the impending change of season, if we look for it, right?

Yes! This morning for the first time this year I heard the referee's whistle song of the red wing blackbird.


A Redwing Blackbird

If you've never heard the Redwing Blackbird, try this. The sound I'm hearing is called the "okalee call." It's about setting out a new territory for the year.

In this corner of the world, the redwing blackbird is the very first sign of Spring. Before crocuses. Before paperwhites. Before anything. In fact, its basketball referee whistle call usually coincides with the beginning of March Madness. The selections for the NCAA tournament aren't until tomorrow. The birds are a little early this year.

And so, in celebration of the fact there is a sign that at long, long last spring is about to emerge, and as important, that the northeastern winter is on its last legs, I offer you ee cummings:

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little lame baloonman


whistles far and wee


and eddyandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring


when the world is puddle-wonderful


the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing


from hop-scotch and jump-rope and


it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed


baloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

Join me in gratitude far and wee for the coming of Springtime.