Back Once More...

Lilacs and blank pages:
two of my favorite things!

The long Memorial Day weekend was full of busy and went by in a blur.

My dandelions grew to leggy and monstrous proportions and went to seed as a group. The rhubarb fanned out like a bouquet of elephant ears. The little finch babies fledged when I was too busy to pay attention, and now the bedroom window is amazingly quiet. (Although in the pre-dawn minutes I've heard wings going in and out of the old homestead -- nostalgic visitings, perhaps? Or do finches have more than one brood per season?) Clouds came and went on the wind and mornings were heralded by claps of thunder and the drumming of rain on the roof. James was home for four whole days and life couldn't have been better.

But now it's back to work for us both! Once again with the Morning Pages and the daily 3-mile walk and the keeping of some regular studio hours.

And I promise to post when I can. :)
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Morning Comes to Tumbledown

This is how I wake up now. And I love it! :)
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A Tumbledown Nursery

View from my bedroom window.

Just days ago I walked into the bedroom and noticed that the books and clutter on my headboard had been all pushed around. Some things had even been knocked to the floor. Obviously Boo had been up there, perched precariously while watching the finch, when something BIG happened. I could only imagine what. I looked at the window and the mother finch wasn't on her nest....

 

In a panic, I stood on the pillows and looked over the edge of the window moulding. From the bowl of the nest a tiny bird's head was stretching up and up on a threadlike stalk of a neck, its mouth gaping wide. And surrounding it were little dime-sized balls of fluff. All the eggs had hatched.

 

I know nothing about purple finches save for the fact that they sing like angels. (But don't take my word for it; I think starlings sing like angels, too.) For all I knew, Boo had frightened the mother away and the nestlings were now abandoned. I replaced everything on the headboard and pointed my finger at Boo, who sat on a pillow at my feet, and for the rest of the day I monitored the window activity as best I could.

 

I needn't have worried. All in the finch world is running like a well-oiled machine. And now this morning I'm happy to report that a handful of hungry nestlings woke me at dawn.

 

 Just as I anticipated, no alarm clock was necessary. :)

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5 Special Things About My Day (5/9/11)

1. Resident housefinch 'Rose Finch-Feather' (last name emphasis on the 2nd syllable, she tells me) sitting on her windownest like a Peeps chick in an Easter basket.

2. Checking out a nearby church rummage sale and finding Treasure: just-right clip-on sunglasses, a Jell-O jellybean mold perfect for some future jewelrymaking, a pair of big fat knitting needles, and BOOKS (of course).

3. Adding color to today's wardrobe selections and feeling almost OK with it. (Granted, we're talking brown here, so I should just settle the heck down already....)

4. Surviving the emotional thoughtfest that is Mother's Day and determining that I've got two amazingly well-adjusted Girlz, who grew up into gorgeous greatness in spite of me feeding them a steady diet of crazy....

5. The island of healthy tranquility that is my yard, all dandeliony in a neighborhood sea of toxic weedkiller.
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Ms. Rosamunde Finch-Feather Moves the Heck In

I've had the awning-style window in my bedroom open for weeks, and (as happens every year) a pair of purple finches has discovered it. For days now they've arrived at dawn with straws and twigs and have begun their puttering around on the ledge there, attempting to weave a nest into the gaping hole that is the window's hinge.

Over the years no finches have succeeded in building a nest there, but that doesn't stop them from trying. Their birdy mutterings are always the signal to Boo that spring has indeed sprung, and now once again she spends her days monitoring the progress. From dawn until twilight she perches on the stack of books that litter my headboard, pressing her nose to the screen while they pitter and chirp. The finches no longer care; I've even seen them pull her whiskers....

Just days ago I noticed that they'd managed to add a stick or two to the hinge that works the window, but I didn't have the heart to remove the screen and eradicate all their hard work. When it became obvious to us that the birds were serious about nesting there (and as you can see, they've been way more than serious), James said, "What will we do if they're successful this year?" And I said, "We won't need an alarm clock, that's for sure." :)

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