mockingbird

Last year I was obsessed was the Scaled Quail.  This year, it’s the Northern Mockingbird. I am in love with this bird.  As I sit here writing, he sits atop our trees serenading us with the songs of his comrades.  I don’t have an ear for birdsongs, but I am confident I have heard the abrasive call of the Magpie, the sweet melody of the Meadowlark, and at least four other songs, surely some his, others borrowed.  The radio is off, the windows are open and we are spending our morning listening to this new favorite feathered friend of ours.  I am sure all Mockingbirds are impressive, but I just can’t believe that every Mockingbird has mastered song as well as our neighbor.  I wish I could record it to share.

It’s been a while.  There have been lots of little gem-like moments that I would love to share.  So like the Mockingbird I am going to sing a few different songs.  Let the theme be theme-less-ness.

THE SONG OF RAIN

After a month or more of dry winds, the kind of winds that dry your laundry before you get the clothespins on, rain graced the mesa.  The wind left everyone disheveled on the outside and inside.  Our belongings, the neighbor’s trash, and our sense of focus were scattered all about the land.  Spring on the mesa is not a time for getting things done.  It’s a time for starting twenty things and finishing none of them, for feeling busy, and pondering too many ideas to keep even the most grounded person sane.  It’s not all bad, but after several weeks you just want to feel your roots again.  And then came the rain.  Twenty hours  of gentle rain. The air smelled sweet and pungent, of sage and soil.  The sky and sage each looked  a shade greener than their true colors.  Everyone’s spirits lifted.  And me, I felt like I could find a focus to my days and leave the frenetic pondering to my dreams.  Oh it was good.  So sweet and so good.

THE SONG OF OLD FRIENDS

After the rains came visits from friends from the north.  Good friends that filled us up with memories, shared presence, and dreams for the future.  And then they left us…longing for more.  

THE SONG OF SPRING’S END

And peppered in amongst the windy days, the rainy days and the busy weeks were the times that we got to sit and soak up the feeling of the changing landscape around us.  Fluorescent green leaves, bubbling creeks, brave little flowers and noisy nesting birds notified us that spring is about to give way to summer.

THE SONG OF OLD SHOES

After a year of wondering and asking questions of the locals, we greet summer with the comfort of familiarity.  We arrived on this little corner of the earth almost a year ago.  Now we know that the afternoons will be hot, but they will give way to awe-inspiring storms and cool evenings.  We know that caterpillars will hatch in June and the coyotes will prowl in the early morning hours.  We know to expect a dry June followed by a wetter July, leaving August as the greenest month.  New is nice, but familiarity feels really, really good.  When it all comes down to it, I think I am more of an old shoe kind-of gal. 

 

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