Ever Changing

At our other farm home, I paused each morning as I walked through the dining room on the way to the kitchen. There through the sliding glass doors, I’d check the pond for that day’s update.  Here in this house, I look out the living room windows to see what is happening on the lake. Ever changing, it always pleases me.

One morning last week, the suface sparkled with a million diamonds gleaming gloriously under the warm bright sun. The next day, the surface was darkened reflecting a dome-like covering of gray-black clouds over the entire farm. More than seven inches of rain came that night, and we woke to see the water brown from mud washed in and perhaps stirred up from the bottom.  The next day, the brown had lessened.  And today it was almost clear again. 

Through it all we have been visited with bluebill ducks who have stopped here  temporarily.  Since various varmints annihilated our home-grown ducks, we are always excited when visitors stop by.  Gerry said they probably left Mexico during the early part of March. When they move to the other end of the lake, we fear they have moved on north, but then some will return to our end for us to enjoy their bright white sides contrasting with  glossy black feathers.  As I walked to the mailbox at the end of our lane, I was relieved to see they are still with us.

Gerald was surprised to look out a couple weeks ago and see the telephone wire beside our lane almost filled with martins lined-up there. He hadn’t realized it was time for their return, and he hurried and cleaned out his houses for them, and they settled in.  Now the view of the lake often features their graceful circling and swooping as they fly down for insects or perhaps for a drink.

Busyness last fall  kept me from searching out our bird feeders. This is the first year since we’ve lived here that we were unable to look out the kitchen window to see the winter birds feeding there on the deck.  When the snow blanketed everything, I felt bad until I found out  Gerald had lined our lane with bird seed, and I saw multitudes feasting there. (He has a tendency to do things in a big way.)

I also failed last summer to get the hummingbird feeders up until the very end of summer. I have been meaning to check with my next-door neighbor when I need to get them hung because I do not want to delay as I did last year.  These pretty little birds whirring and fighting each other as they gather around the deck feeders are an interesting addition as we look out toward the lake at the constantly varying vision there.

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The Whirring of Wings and Whizzing Softballs

The hummingbirds are back. It took a day or two before one must have found the feeders and told their friends. Tonight the air on the lake side of our house was literally alive with birds.

The martins were chirping noisily on the long perches on the monster house Gerald built for them near our deck. Then suddenly they or a group from yet another martin apartment building on other side of our house would take flight. Too many birds to count would fill the air flying up and down and swooping over my head seeming to rejoice at their ability to do acrobatics together in the air.

At the same time, the tiny hummers were flying in and out and onto the feeder in front of me with their whirring wings adding to the twilight bird music. I relaxed after a lovely day of Bible study, worship, and family time until with daylight gradually fading, it became too chilly to linger outside any longer without a sweater.

On Friday, Gerald took the van up to the Rehabilitation Institute to bring Katherine home from Saint Louis, so that her husband David did not have to miss work. Along with a beautiful bouquet and special cake and goodies, David and son Sam had a huge welcome home banner waiting for her as she rolled into the house. She seems considerably stronger.

We were all watching the Georgia Bulldogs play a tremendous game of softball against Alabama, but as soon as possible we left for the farm to see the end of the game there while the Cedar family were together again after two and a half weeks. Unfortunately, despite the tremendous game pitched by Erin Arevalo, one home run left the ending score 1-0 in favor of the Crimson Tide.

That put our Georgia team out of their single elimination Conference tournament, but we were comforted by knowing that earlier that day, our Southern Illinois University Salukis had beaten the number one seed and would be playing for the Missouri Valley Conference championship the next day.

Yesterday after a hurried lunch, phone calls assured us that Mary Ellen and Brianna had arrived from their home in central Illinois and would go with Gerald and me to see SIUC play. They were waiting beside the road at the new farm house their family recently bought to give Brian yet more acreage. MET and Bri jumped in, and we stopped only to leave a car seat at our sister-in-law Opal’s house. That was so our niece Vicki Sue could pick it up and have safe transportation for our great niece Emerson from Wyoming. Vicki picks up Gerald’s sister Ernestine, her daughter Leah, and little Emmie in Saint Louis this coming Friday.

Mary Ellen could not keep from being upset at not being able to take time to visit with her Aunt Opal, who was outside with a plant sale going on opposite her neighbor’s yard sale. But we had to hurry onto Carbondale and the stadium. Gerald dropped us off at the gate and found a place to park while we found seats inside.

What should have been a thrill to see SIUC place second in their conference was diluted by the lopsided score, but we still clapped loudly when that second-place trophy was awarded. That trophy does not come without lots of dedication and hard work by young women who also manage to study and take final exams as well as attending practices. But meeting our granddaughter Erin for pizza at Pagliai’s after their team meeting did soften our disappointment.

We agreed to meet again at Woodsong for lunch today although Gerald would have gladly taken us out to eat for Mother’s Day. But I’m not too enthusiastic about waiting in line at an eatery on a holiday. So I thawed a couple small roasts and stuck them in the oven with veggies before we left for our village church at 9 a.m. The Cedars came out, and I was able to hear a little more of the new therapies that the St. Louis multiple sclerosis doctors are recommending for Katherine. Also good news is the return of a favorite young woman aide from a couple of summers ago, who is moving into their spare bedroom.

Our evening ended tonight when Gerald and I watched the NAAC Selection Show for Division I Softball. The 64 teams in the nation who will be playing in the sixteen Regionals this coming weekend were announced. Number 10 ranked Georgia will be hosting their regional in Athens, and I am sure Erin was happy to see her alma mater Texas A&M ranking 8th and hosting their regional. Our entire family was bound to have been pleased to hear praises for Mel Dumezich at A&M, who is a Southern Force alum, and, of course,for Georgia’s Erin Arevalo. Their whizzing softballs have earned them well-deserved recognition.

Now I suppose the birds are bedded down for the night, and Gerald is as well after falling asleep in his recliner the minute the selection show finished. Probably it’s time for me to also come to the end of a good day as soon as I make the morning coffee.

Watching Hummingbirds

Daily entertainment is offered by the glass doors of our kitchen opening onto the west end of the deck where we see colorful hummingbirds zipping, zagging, and zapping around the feeder hanging there.

On the other end of the deck outside our bedroom is another hummingbird feeder. If I sit on the porch swing there, the tiny birds will buzz all around me letting me know they are not afraid of me even if I am daring to invade their territory. Their tiny wings make a noisy sound as the birds hover by the feeder or fly past me.
We are not only feeding them but also the wasps and dirt dobbers who like the birds’ sweet sugar water. I am impressed at the steady stream of tiny ants from down below somewhere who come up onto the deck railing and then crawl along the long black wrought iron holder that Gerald uses to put the feeders on so they are away from the deck rail and in easy reach for the tiny birds.
Every year at least five or six during the summer will fly into Gerald’s shop and cannot find their way out. He will find one dead on the floor, and it makes him feel bad. The large machine door openings that they came in can be wide open, but somehow they cannot find their way out.

Yesterday I started to leave for town and there was a colorful hummingbird frantically flyinhg around the ceiling of the garage. The door on my side of the garage was already open and I assumed that is how it got in, but the bird seemed to persist flying on the side of the closed door behind the pickup. I did not want to close my door and leave the poor little thing aimlessly trying to escape. I opened the door behind the pickup, and that caused it to fly to my side where the door was already opened. But did it leave? No, it was flying too high evidently to see the opening. I talked to the bird and explained how it could gets its freedom, but the bird would not listen to my advice. Finally I had to leave, but I could not bear to close my door, so I left it opened and hoped for the best. Much to my relief, the pretty thing was gone when I came home.

Our many martins have already left us for this summer. These hummingbirds will be leaving us for Mexico soon, and we ponder how they make that trip. What allows them to reach their wintering grounds there year after year while they are unable to find their way back out of a building the same way they came in?