Month: February 2021

I Blinked – Day 819

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Tundra – Photo: L. Weikel

I Blinked

I blinked and the weekend was over. It feels like I fell into a time warp or something.

The really weird thing is that all day Friday I kept thinking it was Saturday. So you’d think having an ‘extra’ day would’ve made the weekend feel longer. Alas, it did not.

Perhaps it was all the big plans I had for the weekend. I had my sights set on crossing a lot of things that have been hanging over my head (or lurking in the recesses of my mind) off my list. Just setting them up like pins and knocking them down: plink, plink, plink.

I think I may have succeeded in getting one plink plunked. But then the snow came.

Classically Lovely

Somewhat surprisingly given the bland wimp-out winters of virtually no snow we’ve experienced over a past fair number of years, we actually got an additional 8-10” of snow today. And that’s on top of the 18” or so we received just last Monday!

This snow, though, was one of those classically lovely ones where the fluffy precipitation piles up on even the tiniest branches of all the trees, as well as the bushes, fence posts, weeds and wires. Suddenly the world is outlined in a generous blanket of cotton candy.

It’s been a veritable snow extravaganza here over the past seven days, to be honest. And I hear there’s potential for more in the offing, perhaps as soon as Thursday. It makes me want to get a sled out of the garage and go sleigh-riding down the hill near the creek. Much to my chagrin, however, I can feel black and blue spots just itching to be birthed should I indulge that desire. The sadness I feel in admitting that truth is real.

Starry Forest – Photo: L. Weikel (Note: Sirius at the bottom center of the photo)

Nevertheless, We Walked

In spite of all the shoveling, Karl and I did squeeze in a walk. Neither one of us really felt like it, but we were rewarded for our persistence beyond measure.

I was able to capture some moments that are startlingly diverse. One shot looks like we were walking in the tundra. Another feels more like a stroll along a path in the midst of a vast forest with only the stars to guide us. And a third makes our yard look like a fairy wonderland courtesy of the Christmas lights we left up for just this opportunity.

The leg of our journey that took us through the forest yielded a shout out from both a screech owl and a Great Horned owl.

It just doesn’t get any better than this.

Candy Lights – Photo: L. Weikel

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Bird Bonus – Day 818

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Wren – Photo: L. Weikel

Bird Bonus

You all know how much I love my feathered friends. I might be disinclined to slap on my boots and bundle up to shovel snow – but I’ll do it to fill the feeders for my buds. And now, what do I discover to my delight? As I increase the variety of visitors to my neck of the woods (or plot of feeders, as it were), I just might receive the equivalent of a bird bonus in my emotional bank account!

Who knew?

And here I thought it was all because I’m just a softy for Mother Earth and all her creatures. But no. It turns out that I’ve learned from this article that the results of a study determined that if we’re exposed to 14 different species of birds on a regular basis, we experience the satisfaction and happiness that an extra $150/month in our bank account would bring us.

What say you, Chickadee? – Photo: L. Weikel

A Puzzle

I have to admit, the precision with which the amount of happiness assessed – in dollar figures, no less, when it appeared to be a British study – poses a bit of a puzzle to me. And I have to say, the addition of $150/month in my bank account might bring me a cascade of happiness raining down upon my head, but I doubt it would have as big an impact upon the hedge fund manager down the road.

Just a thought.

But would that mean that the hedge fund manager would need 140 different species to show up at her feeder to feel the same feels engendered by visits from our avian brothers and sisters that I might get from 14? Does it mean that hedge fund managers are hopelessly destined to never feeling as much joy from birding as I might be?

One might think being a HEDGE fund manager might attract enough nesting birds to…

Oh man, you can tell I’m digging deep for tonight’s post.

But the link is real! And quite honestly, I do believe the more birds that visit our lives each and every day, the happier we are. And I honestly and sincerely can’t put a dollar figure on the joy my birds bring me.

I just love them.

House Sparrows Hangin’ – Photo: L. Weikel

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The Dig – Day 817

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments

The Dig

Karl and I decided to check out Netflix tonight. It’s been a while since we watched a movie (not counting the experience of watching In and Of Itself, which felt much different than simply watching a movie). Popping up immediately was The Dig, a movie based on actual events that played out in the late 1930s.

I was unfamiliar with the archeological trove discovered in 1937 at Sutton Hoo, an estate in Suffolk, England, and I enjoyed imagining the excitement of unearthing such an extraordinary discovery.

The funny thing is, just after we finished watching the movie this evening and, Karl went to bed. I began perusing my email just to get myself in the frame of mind to write my post, when an email from Smithsonian Magazine caught my eye. Didn’t it contain an article on this very subject?! I’d not checked my email in several hours (a discipline I’ve been trying to cultivate), so I hadn’t seen it before watching the movie.

I’m including the link to the article, above, but you might want to watch the movie before reading it.

A Welcome Change

I have to admit, watching The Dig this evening was a welcome reprieve to the mayhem that seems to permeate our culture right now. I’m complicit, for sure. After the 1/6 Insurrection, or right around that time, Karl and I started watching The Sopranos. We’d never watched the series back when it was airing for the first time, in 1999-2006.

While the series was addictive, Karl and I were crystal clear why we’d not watched back when it first aired. There was no way we would’ve wanted our kids to watch that. As it was, we cringed (and I turned my head) at some of the violence. Blecccch.

Then after watching that series, we started watching the series on Hulu (it’s a Showtime series, though) Your Honor, featuring Bryan Cranston as a New Orleans judge who…well, I won’t disclose any of the plot. It’s compelling viewing as well; but damn – it’s violent.

And then there’s the Insurrection itself and the rhetoric we’re being exposed to day in and day out, and which is becoming normalized in our political discourse.

It’s disconcerting.

There’s a Book

After reading the Smithsonian article on the greater details of The Dig, I think I’m going to read the book of the same name*, upon which the movie was based. It sounds like an interesting aspect of the owner of the estate, Edith Pretty, was left out of the movie: her ‘spiritualism.’ Hmm.

Mrs. Pretty’s interest in the afterlife is only alluded to slightly in the movie, in a wonderful scene with her son toward the end of the movie. That scene reminded me of a particular type of journey I’ve taken with shamanic friends in Ireland. I’ll leave it at that. That scene is also connected to the photo, above, I’m using to illustrate this post.

*affiliate link

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Upon a New Path – Day 816

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Deer on Path – Photo: L. Weikel

Upon a New Path

I’ve been receiving intriguing new messages and following a variety of signs recently that encourage embarking upon a new path.

This happens every once in a while. In my life, specifically, the cycle seems to be around every 20 years or so. There are other patterns that come and go within those twenty year cycles, and they seem to repeat in shorter waves, weaving in and out, announcing perhaps more subtle changes that perhaps aren’t quite as big as the double decade.

Perhaps this shift of path I’m sensing is related to the Jupiter-Saturn conjunction that takes place every twenty years. Yes, we went through that back at the end of December (the Winter Solstice – December 21st, to be exact), when we witnessed the Grand Conjunction that I wrote about (and documented pictorially) so often. But let’s remember: it’s a twenty-year cycle. So if I or you or any of us is only just now starting to get a sense of how our lives may be changing as a result of this ‘spark,’ I think such lag time is understandable – and forgivable – particularly given the rather momentous distractions that have been playing out all around us.

Take a Look

When you think about all we’ve been through, collectively, since December 21st, I think it only stands to reason that we might not have had a chance to give ourselves the time and space to actually reflect upon what was going on in our lives during the last Jupiter-Saturn conjunction.

So maybe now that we’ve had a chance to breathe a little and settle ourselves down into a slightly lower sense of anxiety, it’s time to consider where things may be holding some change for us. We can start by looking at what area of our life, if any, experienced a major shift around the time of the most recent conjunction (before this past December), which occurred on 5/28/2000.

And for those of you who, like me, can reflect even further back, the other dates of this specific planetary conjunction were:

  • 1/1/81, 3/6/81, and 7/25/81 (clearly they conjuncted, then Jupiter scooted forward for a bit then went retrograde, causing it to come back and conjunct Saturn again, kept going retrograde, then went direct again and conjuncted with Saturn one last time before continuing onward in its orbit);
  • 2/18/61; and
  • 8/6/40, 10/21/40, and 2/14/41.

As I say, personally, I can see how specific major changes in my life happened in close proximity to these conjunctions. As I engage in this reflection, it’s helping me understand and interpret the signs, messages, and signals I’m receiving now.

Perhaps you’ll find this to be true for you as well.

A New Path – Photo: L. Weikel

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Quiet Times – Day 815

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Stalking the Sunset – Photo: L.Weikel

Quiet Times

Most of the walks Karl and I have taken over the past few days have been in silence. Sometimes that happens because we’ve had an argument and neither one of us wants to speak to the other. Other times, though – the peaceful quiet times – we’re often walking in awed silence, overwhelmed by the cacophony of colors and configurations Nature paints before our eyes.

Tonight was one of those peaceful quiet times.

We both were lucky enough to be ending a day in which we found ourselves lost in our work. Lost in that positive sense of becoming so immersed in what we were doing that hours slipped by without notice. Even better, our enchantment was a result of focusing on matters that foster creative thought, new horizons, and whisper of possible adventures.

And so it was when we pulled our heads from the clouds and looked at each other across the room, with Spartacus expectantly glancing from one to the other of us, that we realized he was jonesing for a walk. What time was it? Suddenly we realized we might miss another sunset if we didn’t drop everything at that very moment and get ourselves outside now.

Photo: L. Weikel

Widdershins

Oh, but when we walked outside, the condition of the western sky defied description. It went without saying that I would try to capture at least some of the meteorological artistry for later, for now, but to do would entail ‘going widdershins.’

Going widdershins simply means walking (or whatever) counterclockwise – not unlike unscrewing a jar. We are admittedly creatures of habit, Karl and I. We mostly walk clockwise. But every once in a while – even energetically – it’s a healthy thing to walk in the opposite direction than we usually do. It gives us an opportunity to let things go, to see our usual route from a different perspective, to loosen things up. It’s a simple part of a healthy energetic practice.

None of those were the foundation of my suggestion we go widdershins tonight, though. No. I suggested it because I knew the sunset wouldn’t wait for us to make it around to my favorite spot for sky snapping. Any chance of capturing even the briefest of breathless moments would have to be deliberately stalked.

So we did. And we were rewarded.

Winter Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Hardest Part

The hardest part of our walk this evening was choosing which photos to send to my laptop for inclusion in this post. Sharing tonight’s peaceful quiet time was a balm to my soul. I’m pretty sure Karl feels the same. He didn’t say – but the sunset reflected in his smiling eyes.

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Darkness’s Secrets – Day 814

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Pristine @ 10:56 p.m. – Photo: L. Weikel

Darkness’s Secrets

You just never know what’s going to be lurking around outside when the lights are out. It’s no secret I’ve had my share of vicarious encounters (mostly courtesy of Spartacus barreling out the door in milder weather only to bowl over an opossum snacking on sunflower seeds or a skunk snagging a couple peanuts from under the peanut coil). But last night I wouldn’t even have known we had a visitor at all had the snow not been quite so revelatory of darkness’s secrets.

My photo at the top of this post was taken last night at 10:56 p.m. I was preparing to write my post and Spartacus needed to make a quick stop outside before heading upstairs to cuddle with Karl. Spart wastes no time dilly-dallying outside when we’re in the midst of a snowstorm.

The stillness was lovely – the only sound being an eerie one note tone resonating ever so softly from our wind chimes. The pile of snow perched atop our metal fire pit cover was one indication of the 18” or so of snow we got. (I was astonished when it continued snowing throughout this morning.)

I took the photo at 10:56 p.m. because of the utter absence of footprints anywhere. It was too deep for Spartacus to bound into (especially this late at night) for the purpose of relieving himself. Even all the bird prints underneath the feeders had been covered by additional snow falling long after the birds had nested up for the night.

2:33 a.m. – Who Goes There? – Photo: L. Weikel

So…What Was THAT?

So when I turned the lights on one more time before heading up to bed myself last night (at 2:33 a.m.), I was a little surprised to see the obvious footprints before me. But then, when I looked a bit closer, I was even more surprised and not a little bit puzzled.

I tried zooming in on the photo I took, but that doesn’t seem to translate well into a blog post. (I’m including it at the end anyway.) So the best I can do is include the photo as it appears in my iPhone, and if you’re interested, you can zoom in on it yourself.

So Many Questions

I find a few things intriguing about these footprints:

  • They don’t come all the way up to the feeders. So…no snacking on birdseed (or peanuts, although the peanut coil is not in this frame);
  • Although they don’t come all the way up to the feeders, there’s also no indication that they were either spooked and fled quickly OR that they turned around. So…how did they make their way back into the woods from which they came?
  • There is a huge space between ‘strides’ of this animal. Was it huge? Was it hopping? I might think a jack rabbit (but they don’t live around here), so…might it have been a fox? I’ve seen videos of them sort of hopping through snow. But it still flummoxes me how they got themselves turned around so they could return to the woods, though.
  • There seemed to be at least two, maybe three or even four different animals out there at the same time. There was the ‘big strider’ over toward the right, just beyond the cone of the fire pit snow, but the prints on the left look decidedly smaller and the stride is so much more abbreviated it makes me doubt they were the same species.

And all of this happened under the cloak of darkness in the span of 3.5 hours. While I was sitting inside writing my post and reading my book, living and breathing beings were hanging out in my yard, deciding whether or not to indulge in some birdseed, retreating back into the forest without obviously turning around, making choices based on who knows what information or intuition?

Just another couple of darkness’s secrets, I guess.

Closeup – Photo: L. Weikel

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Chickadee Photo-bomb – Day 813

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What are you lookin’ at? – Photo: L. Weikel

Chickadee Photo-bomb

My feathered friends were in fine fettle today. Comings, goings, dodging of snowball-sized snowflakes. There was even a chickadee photo-bomb thrown into the mix. Life doesn’t get much better than having access to such color and sassiness, puffery and strategy.

We’ve formed a mutual admiration club that only seems to improve with time. I ensure their supply of sunflower seeds is topped off and never in danger of depletion and they provide a non-stop tutorial in avian culinary predilections and territorial posturing.

It just so happened I received an article about those very habits in my inbox this morning, which made my observations all the more enlightening.

Patience – Photo: L. Weikel

A Mere Sampling

It should be noted that the photos in tonight’s post are from only one of my feeders. The truth is, there’s an entire cadre of winged ones that don’t even deign to visit this particular feeder, probably because it’s so close to the house. As a result, these photos are but a mere sampling of the visitors we entertain.

The truth is, these spoiled creatures have access to seven other feeders on another side of our house. I just happen to feature photos mostly from this feeder because they’re the easiest for me to take. Indeed, sometimes it’s hard for me to get anything accomplished when they’re flitting and kibitzing with each other right outside my window.

And then there’s the occasional Boeing 747 that lands on the feeder, scattering all the little ones from hither to yon. I’m talking the red shouldered woodpeckers and blue jays, mostly. While these beasts were around today and sending everyone away in an occasional frenzy, they seemed a bit camera shy.

Don’t talk with your mouth full – Photo: L. Weikel

The Others

After I topped off the seven ‘other’ feeders, including the peanut coil, I stood very quietly on the porch and just observed. It did not take a full sixty seconds before everybody got the word that the goods had been delivered. A free-for-all was here for the taking.

Many of the birds that grace our land enjoy nibbling their kibble directly from the ground. Cardinals tend to be ground feeders (although they obviously won’t hesitate to imbibe from a feeder if need be), as do juncos. I didn’t realize that until today, when as I stood stock still on the porch to see who would show up if they thought I’d retreated inside, I saw at least fourteen juncos show up and do a little dance under the peanut coil.

I’m pretty sure they were more interested in the sunflower seeds I’d scattered there than the peanuts, but you never know. I’m always surprised by the little guys that try to wedge a peanut twice as big as their head out of the coil. I have to wonder: is that a ‘meal for the day?’

Crowd at the bar – Photo: L. Weikel

Sacrifice

I made the conscious choice to keep my phone (and hence my camera) in my pocket as I stood in observation mode on the porch. It was a sacrifice, but I didn’t want any movement of mine to scatter them. I wanted to see if I could get them to feel safe enough to eat freely in my presence. At one point, my quick count of all those prancing on top of the snow, clinging to the feeders themselves, and kibitzing from the overhanging branches of the maples came to at least 68.

I have to admit, it was a precious few minutes early this afternoon when I was graced with their trust. I’d decided to refill the feeders at that moment because the snowball-sized snowflakes that had pelted the area in a barrage of white fluff (it got deep fast) had subsided. The Weather Channel app on my phone was remarkably accurate this storm – and true to their prediction, I had a window in which to refill the feeders.

As I stood there watching and listening to the house and goldfinches, chickadees, juncos, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, wrens, and nuthatches call to each other, the snowstorm resumed. The flakes were no longer big enough to build a fort with singlehandedly, but they were falling so thickly and furiously, my eyelashes were coated and I could swear the birds were ducking.

This was a wonderfully beautiful, long-lasting snowstorm that I was delighted to enjoy with the birds that share our land and home with us.

Cletus and Spartacus, on the other hand, the ones who usually are first out the door? That was not on their agenda today.

It’s a snow day, Mommy – Photo: L. Weikel

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One Thing Better – Day 812

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Feeder in Winter Snowstorm – Photo: L. Weikel

One Thing Better

I’m luxuriating in the cocoon created by a luscious snowstorm. There’s nothing better than the muffled whisper of snow falling in the midst of a forest. Well – maybe there’s one thing better: the prospect that the snow may fall even harder and faster tomorrow, and we’ll have the chance to enjoy the wintry isolation yet another day.

Karl and I walked this evening, well after dark, and not a single car passed us on our two mile trek. The silence was exquisite. The firelight flickering across the snow from the neighbor’s bay window was warm and inviting, and I could just imagine him wrapped in an afghan reading a favorite book.

The Outset

Knowing that there’s a good chance we’ll get a decent amount of snowfall in this system, I took a few photos of my feathered friends as they stocked up on the sunflower seeds I’d just packed into their feeders. The photo at the top of this was taken at 12:12 this afternoon – only shortly after the snowstorm arrived.

I don’t know if you can see it, but a chickadee was in the midst of making what could almost be called a crash landing into the feeder just as I took the shot. It’s too bad you can’t get the full flavor of the ‘live’ photo; it was rather amusing.

I took this photo, though, to document the progression of the storm. I intend to take another photo at 12:12 tomorrow (Monday) – just for comparison’s sake.

The photo below is simply offered to document the fact that we have some ginormous wrens in our neck of the woods. This particular wren has to be twice the size of the others I’ve seen. It’s tough to get a photo of it for comparison’s sake, though, because it seems to almost stamp its feet at the smaller wrens, scaring them away.

Franken Wren – Photo: L. Weikel

Enjoy the Moment

Wishing all of you a delectable Monday. I hope no one needs to drive anywhere and you can get whatever pressing obligations you have taken care of expeditiously enough to allow you some time to just be. Maybe the snow will continue falling long enough for you to take a walk tomorrow evening, too.

Happy Imbolc. Happy 1st day of February.

Wren is larger than it appears – Photo: L. Weikel

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