Wednesday, January 25, 2006

The First Bird

The first bird singing softly, on a January day,
makes me dream of flowers, in Iowa in May.
Today it begins; on a sunny, mild day, the tufted titmouse cleared his throat and began his "Peter Peter" call from an oak tree on the hill; the first bird song of the new year. The songbirds start their courtship and territorial claims tentatively and softly at first, not being sure if this is really spring, or just an interlude in a long winter (being older, wiser, and more cynical, I know it is a false spring, but I can appreciate the birds' impatience). A walk in the garden shows foliage from last year, like the epimedium above, still in good shape, and a myriad of bulbs peeping up to see if the warm sun is for real. Whenever I go out for a garden walk, I never get more than half way across the yard to the garden gate, when I hear a thump, and look back to see one of our kitten-cats, P.J., blasting out through the cat door to catch up with me, her legs being so short that I always wonder that her stomach doesn't scrape on the ground. She has become quite the little garden cat, following me about everywhere, stopping to climb her favorite trees, from whose limbs she gets so intent on looking about at all the birds, that she almost falls out of the tree. Posted by Picasa

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