Tag: spring

Robin

Last week a robin showed up in the garden and began using one of the branches of the vitex tree as a springboard to throw himself at the window, over and over again. The loud thumping could be heard in the house morning, noon, and evening. As it continued day after day, I confess, it became quite annoying, especially during my afternoon nap! I tapped on the window whenever I was nearby, but he was undeterred. He just kept coming back.

I wondered how this robin could keep throwing himself at the window without hurting himself, so I watched from inside. To my dismay, I realized he could keep it up forever. Each time he flew at the window, he executed a neat quarter-backflip, thumped the window with his feet, and then flew back to his perch completely unharmed.

Gentle Reader, though I was sympathetic to his mating ritual, after more than a week, I decided to take action. This morning, I created a cage made of picture hanging wire around his favorite branch, so he could no longer perch there.

So far, so good. I’ll keep you posted if he outsmarts me.

The robin on his perch, prior to the wire cage

Almost

My potted roses are almost ready to bloom. In addition to the red roses, the pink, rose, gold, and coral-colored roses (not pictured) are also ready to pop. Most of them will bloom all summer, but they will never again be as beautiful as they will be in April.

I can’t wait.

Just getting started

The trees are coming into leaf, and the garden is just beginning to bloom (Cherry Sage and Vinca pictured above). Baby steps.

April and May will be the most beautiful months when everything comes into bloom. The roses are in bud now. They should be gorgeous in a few weeks. I look forward to making bouquets for the Blessed Virgin and the Lord Jesus.

This morning, I played my lap harp on the back porch while the birds chirped along. Were they wondering what kind of bird I am?

“The birds can’t stop singing”

Recently a friend in Ireland, who was having a rare sunny day, expressed her joy by exclaiming, “The birds can’t stop singing!” All the wonder of springtime seemed to be captured in that evocative phrase.

I thought about the empty bird bath in our back yard, which I hadn’t filled since last fall. Throughout the winter, a stray dove or wren would occasionally wander through the yard, but for the most part, they disappeared.

I feel guilty, Gentle Reader. I really do.

So, I filled the bird bath a couple of days ago, and the birds are back. Instead of singing at sunrise and sunset, as the wrens usually do, they’ve been singing all through the live-long day. And the doves can’t stop cooing.

They are very forgiving.

First Bloom

My roses were still in bud when I went out of town last week. Coming home, I found them in full flower. They will continue to bloom all summer, but they will never be as lush and extravagant as they are today.

There’s something almost magical about the garden in spring. I want to cling to the beauty, but I know it will eventually fade into the heat of summer.

I refuse to grieve. I think heaven will be like this, only it won’t pass away.

Anticipation

Here in Southern New Mexico, it’s still winter. When I leave the house in the morning, it’s just above freezing, but by afternoon, it has warmed up to the fifties (F).

A few violets have appeared. Soon there will be a purple carpet of the little dears. And new shoots of tall sedum have appeared among the dead stalks of last year’s offering. They remind me of miniature cabbages.

Spring isn’t in the air yet, but it shimmers on the horizon.

Waking Up

At night, the temperature still falls to the mid-20s F. The violas and kale don’t mind.

Last summer I grew some tall sedum plants from cuttings provided by a generous neighbor. They completely died back when winter arrived, but now, tiny rosettes of future sedum plants are appearing in spite of the cold.

A few buds are gracing the violets.

They know spring is coming.

Tranquility

The Rio Ruidoso

I walked along the river in the forest this morning. There was something comforting about the continual flow of water as it tumbled over the rocks in the river bed — living water, fed by mountain springs high above. The river bubbled with quiet sounds of swirling water and little falls. Yet, here and there, the water paused in tranquil pools before continuing on its never-ending search for lower ground.

I looked for the wild sweet peas that I saw along the banks last May, but it was too early, or perhaps too dry. When I looked up from my search, a tree was blooming.

How?

Finally — a morning without wind. I bring my coffee and spiritual reading into the garden, but my book remains unopened. In the trees, the birds can’t stop singing. A bee hovers over a barely visible holly blossom. The air caresses my skin as only it can do in spring. There is new life everywhere.

How can I read about God when He is at work all around me?

Springtime Blues (Pinks)

Evening Primrose (Oenothera speciosa “Siskiyou” )

After working in the garden over the past few weeks, I was looking forward to sitting outside this morning and simply enjoying the view, but the day is windy and cold, so I retreated into the warmth of the house. Yet, I can enjoy the Evening Primroses from my window.

I planted them last fall after my husband helped me create a new border in the courtyard. The variety pictured above is native to Texas and Mexico, so it does well in Southern New Mexico with little or no care. The foliage charmed me all winter by staying green, and during the past week they began producing countless, paper-like blossoms that are supposed to continue through fall. The instructions warn that these plants can be quite invasive, and they did indeed spread over the winter while many of my other plants were dormant.

With foliage and blossoms like that, as far as I’m concerned, they can go for it!