Next time you need a change of pace on a wintry day, position yourself in view of a bird feeder containing sunflower seed and try to count chickadees.
Betcha can't!
I know, because I keep trying and fail. The way chickadees swoop back and forth to snatch a seed, the speed at which they do it, the multiple directions they come from at the same time, and the fact that they all look the same, combine to make a dizzying, zigzag, constantly changing pattern that forces you to look straight ahead, sideways, and out the corners of your eyes simultaneously in order to keep track of them.
It's frustratingly fun, because chickadees are about the cutest birds to flit across the planet. In wintertime, they hang out with all the other adorable gray-black-white birds -- titmice, nuthatches, downy and hairy woodpeckers, juncos.
All of these spread out in summer, but during the winter they concentrate around our feeders. I watch them through the window or from outside, feet or inches from the feeders. The chickadees are so bold they don't mind my presence, and make cheeps and beeps in response to my refilling their tube.
Some people get the birds to feed from their hands, but I've never succeeded in doing that. Just the other day, though, I got one to perch on the cup of seed I held out and pick one from it while looking me in the eye. Someday I'd like to configure a hat to hold seed in the crown and sit outside with a book to see if they go for it. Maybe this spring . . .
Many weeks to go before that opportunity. In the meantime, I think there are 10 chickadees in residence this year.
Or is that 8? . . . 12? . . . 6?
Carolyn Haley
Author: The Mobius Striptease (e-novel, Club Lighthouse Publishing)
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The relativity of hardness
When I was a suburban youngster, "hard work" meant applying yourself to school and chores, and following through on projects, and honoring the obligations of duty.
As an adult, "hard work" meant pretty much the same thing, extended into the employment arena.
It wasn't until spouse and I purchased a homestead in rural Vermont, and I undertook gardening and house-and-yard projects -- then, later, heating with wood -- that I learned a new meaning of "hard work." That's the kind that physically exhausts you into a heap and introduces minor injury into your life.
There's no value difference between these types of work and their degrees of difficulty. Hard work is hard work, in whatever form. But working in the physical realm has educated me in how other people live, and how our forebears lived, in away that all my school and office experience failed to do. It's become difficult to take things for granted, because I now know what's required to make them happen; and I deeply respect folks who labor for a living, because now I know how hard their lives can be.
Hard physical labor does have its rewards, in a sense of job-well-done, and increased strength, and sound sleep at night. You often see the fruits of your labors more quickly and directly than from intellectual endeavors. It's still just plain hard, though, and I can't say I love it. Nevertheless, it allows you to live economically, in that you don't have to pay people do everything, and you can get fit without having to buy time at a gym!
Carolyn Haley
Author: The Mobius Striptease (e-novel, Club Lighthouse Publishing)
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
As an adult, "hard work" meant pretty much the same thing, extended into the employment arena.
It wasn't until spouse and I purchased a homestead in rural Vermont, and I undertook gardening and house-and-yard projects -- then, later, heating with wood -- that I learned a new meaning of "hard work." That's the kind that physically exhausts you into a heap and introduces minor injury into your life.
There's no value difference between these types of work and their degrees of difficulty. Hard work is hard work, in whatever form. But working in the physical realm has educated me in how other people live, and how our forebears lived, in away that all my school and office experience failed to do. It's become difficult to take things for granted, because I now know what's required to make them happen; and I deeply respect folks who labor for a living, because now I know how hard their lives can be.
Hard physical labor does have its rewards, in a sense of job-well-done, and increased strength, and sound sleep at night. You often see the fruits of your labors more quickly and directly than from intellectual endeavors. It's still just plain hard, though, and I can't say I love it. Nevertheless, it allows you to live economically, in that you don't have to pay people do everything, and you can get fit without having to buy time at a gym!
Carolyn Haley
Author: The Mobius Striptease (e-novel, Club Lighthouse Publishing)
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Winter salad
The other day in the supermarket, I stood griping about the poor quality of the vegetables I was selecting. Then my better self woke up and slapped me upside the head. It's the middle of winter, and there I was bemoaning imperfection in products that only grow here in summer, while surrounded by towers of fresh fruit and vegetables from all over the world!
Think of it. January. Two feet of snow on the ground. Daytime highs in the teens, below zero overnight. And I could still have salad. How wonderful is that?
Yes, I know about the evils of pesticides and industrialized agriculture. But this is the upside: fresh, whole foods year-round. There's room for improvement in how they are produced and transported, I won't argue about that. Meanwhile, I'll consume with gratitude all that farmers and orchardists make available for our nutrition and health.
While writing Open Your Heart with Gardens, I searched for simple ways that anyone could find pleasure and comfort from the living green world. Embarrassing to think I missed the obvious -- fruits and vegetables on the table 365 days a year! It takes little research to learn what our forebears had to endure between harvests. Think of them next time you peel an orange, stir a salad, slice bananas onto your cereal, or tumble berries into your yogurt.
In fact, next time you enter a grocery store, pause and appreciate the bounty. That will help make Thanksgiving a daily ritual instead of a once-a-year event.
Carolyn Haley
Author: The Mobius Striptease (e-novel, Club Lighthouse Publishing)
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Think of it. January. Two feet of snow on the ground. Daytime highs in the teens, below zero overnight. And I could still have salad. How wonderful is that?
Yes, I know about the evils of pesticides and industrialized agriculture. But this is the upside: fresh, whole foods year-round. There's room for improvement in how they are produced and transported, I won't argue about that. Meanwhile, I'll consume with gratitude all that farmers and orchardists make available for our nutrition and health.
While writing Open Your Heart with Gardens, I searched for simple ways that anyone could find pleasure and comfort from the living green world. Embarrassing to think I missed the obvious -- fruits and vegetables on the table 365 days a year! It takes little research to learn what our forebears had to endure between harvests. Think of them next time you peel an orange, stir a salad, slice bananas onto your cereal, or tumble berries into your yogurt.
In fact, next time you enter a grocery store, pause and appreciate the bounty. That will help make Thanksgiving a daily ritual instead of a once-a-year event.
Carolyn Haley
Author: The Mobius Striptease (e-novel, Club Lighthouse Publishing)
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Monday, December 21, 2009
The true holiday
For me, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s roll into one big holiday on the winter solistice, time of the shortest day and longest night, after which days start getting longer again. In other words, “here comes the sun”!
Solstice is my Christmas, when I celebrate the ultimate gift—the return of light—and our creator, the universe, which is utterly reliable, relentlessly beautiful, and infinitely wondrous.
Solstice is my New Year, when I toast with loved ones the rebirth of the natural cycle, and make resolutions for the next round of seasons.
Open Your Heart with Gardens (nonfiction, DreamTime Publishing)
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Winter finally arrives
Apropos my most recent posting about a late-arriving winter, a friend and colleague has written a lovely piece about the first snow.
See http://northernwoodlands.org/editors_blog/article/first-snow/
See http://northernwoodlands.org/editors_blog/article/first-snow/
Saturday, December 5, 2009
A late winter
Living in the Northeast at 43+ degrees N latitude and 1200+ feet altitude puts us square in the snow belt. By now we usually have a layer down atop frozen ground, but this year the season has arrived late.
We got our first dusting in October, which is pretty much normal; our first measurable snow (a whopping 1 inch!) in early November; finally, today, our first shovel-able snow, just a few wet inches. This time, however, the subsequent weather will remain cold enough to keep it, and winter will finally be underway.
Its late arrival has been a blessing for some and a curse for others (such as regional ski areas, which have been unable to open and missed the Thanksgiving weekend for the first time in decades). For our household, a blessing. We have so many outdoor projects, and make such a mess all summer and fall, that it's always a race to get cleaned up and buttoned up before snowfall, which freezes everything in place for up to 6 months -- one year, even 7 months. This year is the first time we've gotten everything done.
I've appreciated having an extra month to enjoy the outdoors without hats, boots, and mittens, and to drive on dry pavement. Had I known the mild stretch was coming, I would have done more transplanting and garden prep.
Now it's time for indoor projects, and I welcome weather excuses to travel less. Winter, after all, is hibernation time for many species. I wish we could hibernate, too! But I'll settle for a chance to lie low for a while . . . even though I'm already counting down to the solstice, when the days start getting longer again.
Carolyn Haley
Author: Open Your Heart with Gardens
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
We got our first dusting in October, which is pretty much normal; our first measurable snow (a whopping 1 inch!) in early November; finally, today, our first shovel-able snow, just a few wet inches. This time, however, the subsequent weather will remain cold enough to keep it, and winter will finally be underway.
Its late arrival has been a blessing for some and a curse for others (such as regional ski areas, which have been unable to open and missed the Thanksgiving weekend for the first time in decades). For our household, a blessing. We have so many outdoor projects, and make such a mess all summer and fall, that it's always a race to get cleaned up and buttoned up before snowfall, which freezes everything in place for up to 6 months -- one year, even 7 months. This year is the first time we've gotten everything done.
I've appreciated having an extra month to enjoy the outdoors without hats, boots, and mittens, and to drive on dry pavement. Had I known the mild stretch was coming, I would have done more transplanting and garden prep.
Now it's time for indoor projects, and I welcome weather excuses to travel less. Winter, after all, is hibernation time for many species. I wish we could hibernate, too! But I'll settle for a chance to lie low for a while . . . even though I'm already counting down to the solstice, when the days start getting longer again.
Carolyn Haley
Author: Open Your Heart with Gardens
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Big, black birds
Crows and ravens
Ravens and crows
What's the difference between them?
Nobody knows!
Not true, of course -- that's just a little ditty off the top of my head to express the challenge in identifying these species from afar. They look so alike, I've had to learn them by voice and behavior. The first raven I saw, out West 15 years ago, matched the picture and description (huge, coarse, shaggy) in my Eastern field guide. But our local ravens look just like the glossy, sleek crows.
Recently I got a chance to see them together. I went outside one sunny, crisp morning and heard a cacophony round back of the house, in the woods up the hill. What seemed like dozens of giant blackbirds were screaming and flapping around an area I couldn't see. Their mobbing suggested either a territorial dispute or the presence of a predator. Since normally a half-dozen crows and a pair of ravens live in amity around our neighborhood, I deduced that they had cornered a hawk.
While waiting for the cause to reveal itself, I studied the blackbirds. Clearly, some were bigger; clearly, their caws and yells differed; clearly, their wing size, tail shape, and flight maneuvers jived with voice and size per the guidebooks. And, clearly, more crows and ravens live around here than I thought!
Presently, in a rioting crescendo, the mob swung in my direction and a red-tailed hawk emerged amid them. No question about identity there: The sun lit up his fanned tail in a brilliant russet. He perched deep in a tree while the hecklers continued until satisfied they had cowed him. Then the ravens circled away in pairs while the crows flapped off in groups or solo, and the land became quiet again. The hawk didn't dare move for a while.
All this I was able to observe without binoculars. So now, thanks to an accident of timing, I know the differences between ravens and crows.
Carolyn Haley
Author: Open Your Heart with Gardens
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
Ravens and crows
What's the difference between them?
Nobody knows!
Not true, of course -- that's just a little ditty off the top of my head to express the challenge in identifying these species from afar. They look so alike, I've had to learn them by voice and behavior. The first raven I saw, out West 15 years ago, matched the picture and description (huge, coarse, shaggy) in my Eastern field guide. But our local ravens look just like the glossy, sleek crows.
Recently I got a chance to see them together. I went outside one sunny, crisp morning and heard a cacophony round back of the house, in the woods up the hill. What seemed like dozens of giant blackbirds were screaming and flapping around an area I couldn't see. Their mobbing suggested either a territorial dispute or the presence of a predator. Since normally a half-dozen crows and a pair of ravens live in amity around our neighborhood, I deduced that they had cornered a hawk.
While waiting for the cause to reveal itself, I studied the blackbirds. Clearly, some were bigger; clearly, their caws and yells differed; clearly, their wing size, tail shape, and flight maneuvers jived with voice and size per the guidebooks. And, clearly, more crows and ravens live around here than I thought!
Presently, in a rioting crescendo, the mob swung in my direction and a red-tailed hawk emerged amid them. No question about identity there: The sun lit up his fanned tail in a brilliant russet. He perched deep in a tree while the hecklers continued until satisfied they had cowed him. Then the ravens circled away in pairs while the crows flapped off in groups or solo, and the land became quiet again. The hawk didn't dare move for a while.
All this I was able to observe without binoculars. So now, thanks to an accident of timing, I know the differences between ravens and crows.
Carolyn Haley
Author: Open Your Heart with Gardens
First-year blog archives at www.dreamtimepublishing.com
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