Saturday, June 22, 2019

Cranked



Blessedly, we were able to crank our windows open this week and let in a little fresh air. Summer is always a game of weather roulette. Sometimes the heat and humidity barrels into our region at the end of May and holds us hostage until October. Other years, we can be cool and rainy for much of June. This year, June has been just about right.

After a nasty round of oral surgery last week, I was confined to my perch on the couch for a few days. The open windows let in the sounds of the day. The birds are in full form this time of year with all the babies following their mommies. The flock of blackbirds screeched away as the young ones were fed, seed by seed from my pan feeder. The percussive sound of their beaks on the metal pan added to the noisy feeding crew. Robins chattered back and forth to each other, perhaps sending messages of worm locations. The chicka-dee-dee-dees flitted in and out of the scene, carrying off seeds, one by one. And a momma downy woodpecker patiently grabbed small chunks of suet and passed them along to her eager offspring.

The neighbor's mower harrumphed its way into action and sent the birds scattering. The smell of freshly cut vegetation sifted its way through the open windows. The neighborhood lilac bushes send their fragrance through the air as well. Lilacs are pretty to look at but my nose is never happy with their bossy aroma and I cry no tears for the drop of their blossoms. The exhaust of a garbage truck deet-deet-deeing its way into the driveway across the street reminds me that all fragrances are relative.

The squeal of kids hurling down our street on their bikes prompts me to pray for angels of protection. Our house is on a small hill so the temptation to leave caution to the wind is great for thrill seeking youth. As their wheels whir across the pavement, their chatter increases and a whoop or two is let out when they reach the base of the hill. Their entertainment is a reminder that fun can be free and always wear your helmet.

Evening brings the smell of burning wood from a neighbor's fire pit. Grills belch out signals of charred burgers. Dogs pad by, letting their owners know who is in charge. Walkers, out for an evening stroll, share secrets of the day. Leaves on the trees allow the wind to use them as instruments going into the night. Motorcyclists rev by with untethered audacity. A kamikaze bird makes a loud splat against my picture window and a fluff of feathers goes fluttering down. A mourning dove makes a dirge-like call of coo-OOH-ooh-ooh, reminding us all that dusk is near.

Soon I will be cranking my windows shut again. The weather forecast looks warm and sticky for the next while. I am not looking forward to the encapsulation of an air-conditioned environment or the increase in my monthly electric bill, but that is the hand summer deals us. Best not complain and just make another ice cream dessert.





Saturday, June 8, 2019

The Call





A recent vacation gave my husband and me time to recharge our batteries and provide a few new experiences along the way.  Let's be clear, our idea of a vacation does not include epic hikes, lake kayaking, exotic cuisine or Disneyland characters. We are simple folk with simple requirements. A comfortable cabin, a fireplace, a grill, a large coffeepot, a veranda and lots of books will do, thank you. Gratefully missing are hordes of people, cell phone reception, city noise and itineraries.

This year we were able to return to a peaceful little cabin in a beautiful valley in the Black Hills. It is a favorite place for us and we are happy to let the beauty of the Hills and the gentleness of the valley seep into our weary bones. We also enjoy checking out new experiences in the Hills and a brochure in the cabin entitled, Osprey Trail, did just that for us. I suffer from OOD, osprey obsession disorder, thanks to a webcam sponsored by Cornell Lab of Ornithology in Missoula, Montana. I spent so much time "in the nest" last summer that I became a self-proclaimed and annoying "expert" on the subject of ospreys. Unfortunately, there are no osprey where I live but the Hills is blessed with an active population. Bingo for me.

The brochure classified the Osprey Hike as easy so there were no barriers for such an adventure. A visit with the ranger at a nearby information center assured us that ospreys are easily spotted along the trail. With map in hand, we took off on our hike in search of the fish-eating raptor. I soon remembered what a dunce I am when it comes to hiking. The hike was listed as a short one but it was clear that our navigation skills could result in a longer meandering process than predicted.  I had a half bottle of water with me, no binoculars and no camera/phone. The sight of a bee reminded me that my husband's epi-pen was back in the vehicle. Visions of a medi-vac danced in my head.

As we forged ahead with our noses glued to the map, lost in discussions of being direction turned, I  heard a sweet sound above the trail. It was the call of an osprey. We let the call be our guide and soon we saw the unmistakable sky dance of an osprey, enjoying the air currents above the water. We watched the performance and soon the beautiful bird swooped down and skimmed the water for a few seconds. We were unable to discern whether a fish was caught but it was enough to see such a sight. We enjoyed a few moments with the bird, the lake and my obsession until a rumble of thunder reminded us to return to our vehicle.

We were unable to spend much time with the birds but we were rewarded with a great memory. And isn't that what a good vacation is all about?

We'll be back.