The temperature on this last day of February was 13 F this morning when I awoke, and several hours later it’s only inched up a degree. Based on past experience, I’ve got to believe that spring will get here eventually, but I’m looking for signs.
I haven’t seen any robins yet this year, but this morning, standing at my kitchen window, I saw a feathered creature even more special – a bluebird. He was sitting very still in one of the large cedars in our backyard, so still that for awhile I wondered if the cold had gotten to him. His posture was rather rounded and compact, perhaps using his feathers to capture warmth. And what feathers they were – an incredibly bright sky blue, with rust-red tummy. He sat there for what seemed a good long while. I tried capturing his image through my kitchen window, screen and all.
I haven’t seen any robins yet this year, but this morning, standing at my kitchen window, I saw a feathered creature even more special – a bluebird. He was sitting very still in one of the large cedars in our backyard, so still that for awhile I wondered if the cold had gotten to him. His posture was rather rounded and compact, perhaps using his feathers to capture warmth. And what feathers they were – an incredibly bright sky blue, with rust-red tummy. He sat there for what seemed a good long while. I tried capturing his image through my kitchen window, screen and all.
Slowly I began to realize that he was not alone. On a lower branch was another bluebird, less intense in coloration, perhaps his mate. Gary took this shot of the two of them.
Seeing these beautiful, special birds brought to memory bluebird sightings of years past. My favorite bluebird memory dates back to a bright Christmas morning, sometime in the late 80s, when our children were all still at home. We were waiting for family to arrive for a Christmas brunch, when I happened to look out the large sliding glass doors of the ranch house we lived in at that time, the house situated at the top of a steep wooded hill leading down to a creek. A large flock of bluebirds flew past the window, their beautiful colors vibrant against the brown trees on the hillside. It was a sighting and a visitation.
Wandering around the house on this cold morning, I’ve been in search of bluebird tokens:
On the shelves of our 50s kitchen, on either side of the sink, two sets of bluebird salt and peppers, found at various estate or yard sales.
Wandering around the house on this cold morning, I’ve been in search of bluebird tokens:
On the shelves of our 50s kitchen, on either side of the sink, two sets of bluebird salt and peppers, found at various estate or yard sales.
In the corner cabinet in our dining room, a bisque bluebird, nestled amongst some Hummels.
On the windowsill of the dining room, a glass bluebird, a gift from my mother-in-law, who loved glass birds of all colors.
In my study, a Hummel music box that belonged to Mom, with a bluebird pictured on its top. (The song it plays is "Yellow Bird")
As for spring, I’ll keep hoping for its ultimate arrival. The large maple in our front yard seems to think it's coming, and is optimistically putting out buds. Can spring really be far behind?