birds

my week: May 12-18, 2025

I always feel like spring days need to be 30 hours long to even have a chance at getting everything done, but especially this year. Errands, appointments, the installation of a new router and cable box with a steep learning curve, our wedding anniversary (#28), the gardens in their springtime frenzy, and, most importantly, Anna’s nerve-wracking push to complete the conditions required to finalize her house offer, which is now officially completed. Exciting times, but I miss the slow, quiet days of winter.

I’ve been starting seeds (cucumber, zucchini, various beans, melons, winter squash) and weeding and transplanting seedlings (lettuce, beans, strawflowers, calendula) and harvesting kale, chives, chard and lots of asparagus, in addition to many vases’ worth of tulips and daffodils. I don’t enjoy planting bulbs in November, but boy am I glad come spring.

This is also a great time for bird-watching and -listening. Merlin is hearing so many species that are just passing through or are here for the summer: American Redstart; Least Flycatcher; Wilson’s, Magnolia, Yellow, Yellow-rumped and Palm Warblers; Dickcissel; Chimney Swift; Ovenbird; Willet; Bank, Tree and Northern Rough-winged Swallows; American Pipit; Killdeer; Grey Catbird; Least Sandpiper; Rose-breasted Grosbeak; and, in great abundance this year, Baltimore Oriole.

There must be other nests, but here’s one they’re building in the copper beech tree:

Anna and I sat on the deck for a bit on a couple of afternoons and watched Orioles fly back and forth across the yard dozens of times, yelling their heads off the whole way.

I haven’t had a lot of photo opportunities, but I did nab a Yellow Warbler (albeit a bit blurry, like all my Yellow Warbler shots) and a less exciting, but still beautiful European starling:

I also captured Evie mulling over her ability to leap 20 feet into the air to catch one of these noisy things in her mouth:

At night, I’ve been reading Death at Victoria Dock by Kerry Greenwood and The World According to Cunk by Philomena Cunk. With an empty cable box, I’ve had time to get back to watching library DVDs of The Brokenwood Mysteries, an enjoyable series from New Zealand.  

my week: May 5-11, 2025

Just this past week, all the trees have fully leafed out and the serviceberries are blooming and the gardens are taking off. Spring has sproinged. I’ve been picking lots of asparagus, daffodils and tulips:

Anna’s house-buying preparations continue and wow, is there a lot to keep track of. Mortgage brokers, insurance brokers, house inspectors, septic inspectors, appraisers, lawyers, real estate agents – emailing people and attending appointments has been almost a full-time job for her for more than a week now. It has completely cured me of any desire to move. What a hassle.

Buying a house has also been instructive for her (and me and our immediate family) when it comes to what we all thought were reasonably good relationships. There’s nothing like taking a big, scary step to show you which people in your life are supportive and excited for you and which people can only criticize or, almost worse, can’t be bothered to say a thing. It will never fail to amaze me how certain people who are more than old enough to know better do not in fact know better. 

On a less infuriating note, it was a pretty good week for wildlife:

While I’m always watching the trees, Charlotte spotted this handsome devil in the grass:

Evie was a capable assistant in the garden on Friday afternoon, shredding weeds for the compost and breaking down old corn stalks and trying to eat bumblebees and barking at birds and following along behind me to remove little twigs I inserted to help identify where I’d sown seeds.

Sunday was Mother’s Day and we had a nice lunch here with the kids and my mother. I spent the afternoon on the couch with my feet up, watching the ball game and taking no responsibility for meal plans and it was great.

With so much to discuss in the evenings, I still haven’t been reading or watching as much as usual, but that’s okay because there will be more than enough time for that all too soon. In the few minutes before bed each night, I’ve been enjoying Murder on the Ballarat Train by Kerry Greenwood. On Saturday and Sunday, Anna and I binged on several episodes of Stath Lets Flats, which I adore. It’s brilliant.

my week: April 28 – May 4, 2025

Holy cow, what a week.

Monday evening: Anna spots a very nice, brand new listing on realtor.ca

Tuesday evening: we attend a viewing and love it

Wednesday evening: the agent tells Anna an offer has been submitted already

Thursday evening: we view it again

Friday evening: Anna submits an offer

Saturday afternoon: her offer is accepted

And just like that, months ahead of schedule, Anna now owns a house. (Conditional on the house inspection and all that jazz, but still.) It is a beautifully renovated old house on a lovely parcel of land with an amazing view. Yes, I am jealous. But the best news is that it’s five minutes away, max.

Between all the house excitement and a last-minute trip to the vet with Evie (nothing critical, just a small sore that needs a bit of ointment) I haven’t had much of a chance to do a lot else.

I’ve been out picking flowers:

and checking on the asparagus, garlic, lettuce, chard, peas and strawberries, all of which are coming along nicely. 

The spring migrants are here: last week, Merlin heard Baltimore Orioles, Eastern Kingbirds, Eastern Phoebes, Belted Kingfishers, Yellow Warblers, Great Blue Herons, Evening Grosbeaks, Pine Siskins, Indigo Buntings and Yellow-billed Sapsuckers in addition to all our usual crew.

Sunday afternoon, Foster spotted an injured American Goldfinch on the deck:

I think he is a breeding male, but I could be wrong. He must have flown into the last remaining plexiglass panel along the edge of the deck. Ugh, how we hate those things. We kept him warm and dry until he felt a bit better, then put him in an open-sided cage until he was ready to leave:

Foster saw him fly off, so other than the cracked beak, he must have been okay. Poor little guy, I don’t like his chances with such an injury, but here’s hoping he can learn to adapt. 

I’ve been so tired every night that I haven’t read much and have only half-listened to ballgames because we’ve been discussing house stuff. After reminiscing a couple weeks ago about how much the kids (and I) liked the cartoon Phineas and Ferb, I ordered some DVDs from the library and we watched a few Sunday night, which was fun. Boy, did it take me back 15 years or so.

my week: Apr 21-27, 2025

Busy, busy week of cooking and cleaning and gardening and baking and errands and trying (and failing) to deal with the chaos created by adding another household to one that was already over-full.

Luckily, there were birds:

And not birds:

The weather was perfect for walking:

But not for much longer because things are definitely heating up. Boo hiss.

I’ve been reading The Nursing Home Murder by Ngaio Marsh and The Tempest by Shakespeare, and watching Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light. So good.

my week: Apr 14-20, 2025

The big excitement of the week was, of course, the arrival of Anna, Cam and Evie (and all their stuff) so Anna can begin her new job. This is a very busy and stressful time for them so my job has been to keep the treats coming. Treats are my love language. So are flowers.

The spring bird migrants are beginning to arrive. This past week, Merlin heard the Red Crossbill a few times, as well as Purple Finches and Eastern Phoebes in addition to all our usual suspects. I didn’t get any photos of the visitors, but I did take these:

One of these things is not like the others…

My entertainment time has taken a bit of a hit lately, but I did watch another Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and read The Twat Files by Dawn French and Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, Macbeth and Twelfth Night.

my week: Mar 31 – Apr 6, 2025

Tired today after a lazy week of watching quite a bit of curling (the Men’s World Curling Championships) while knitting (finished two toques), followed by an intense 20-hour visit from Anna and Cam, who brought almost all their stuff from PEI in preparation for their move back to Nova Scotia in a couple weeks. With the contents of their house scattered all over our house, it looks like this place has been picked up and shaken, but I’m so thrilled to get them back I couldn’t care less. 

Completely unrelated photo I took of Canada Geese:

I didn’t just sit and knit, of course, much as I would love that. I cook six days a week (Foster cooks the seventh) and bake and clean bathrooms and do laundry and vacuum and dust and shop and pay bills and work in the garden and am continuously engaged in a losing battle against dishes and random stuff left on every flat surface. I thought housework would be a breeze once the kids were grown, but I was wrong. It’s easier, yes, but I can never get over what a mess things become if I dare to focus on something else for a day or two. It’s baffling.

A variety of birds like to sit in a tree right outside the west living room window, which is beside “my” spot on the couch, and they often seem to enjoy the company. This Blue Jay, for instance, sat watching me for at least an hour:

I’ve been pretty absorbed in We Solve Murders by Richard Osman and have been looking for new meal ideas in The Weekday Vegetarians by Jenny Rosenstrach. Shakespeare studies shall resume now that the curling has finished. Next up is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

my week: Mar 24-30, 2025

We had one final little blast of winter last Wednesday and it was great.

By midday the snow was almost gone and I’m sad to think that might be it for another eight months. I live in the wrong place.

The yard was filled with birds all whooping it up and I watched a Blue Jay repeatedly dive face-first into the snow and wriggle and flap around in it, like Glen does on the couch when he’s hyped up.

These birds were more dignified:

Gardening activities are ramping up with every passing day. I sowed more peas, lettuce, chard, basil, tomatoes, calendula and strawflowers. I cut back raspberry canes, pulled weeds and started clearing away last year’s dead stalks. The bulbs are making progress, with tulip and daffodil leaves poking through and crocuses getting started:

Foster and I did our usual round of errands (farm market, Little Free Libraries, regular library, mail collection) and he scored two first edition Stephen King hardcovers from the early 90s. It isn’t every young man who’s willing to hang out with his mother when he could be doing something more exciting and I’m always grateful for his company. 

MLB season started on Thursday and I’m ready for another few months of frustration and disappointment. Thanks to all the extra tv time, I finished the baby blanket for the gift stash and am three-quarters of the way through a toque, also destined to be packed away until someone needs a hat. My goal is to create a cache of items so that if I drop dead tomorrow, my survivors won’t have to worry about their source of knitted accessories for a long time. I have no fortune to leave, sadly, but I do have lots and lots of wool. 

Aside from baseball, I watched a very good three-part series called Julius Caesar: The Making of a Dictator on PBS. The parallels to another orange-hued dictator-in-the-making were depressing. Will his peers stand up to him the way the Roman senators did? Doesn’t seem likely. 

I’ve been reading Cocaine Blues by Kerry Greenwood, Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz, Don’t Believe Everything You Think by Joseph Nguyen and The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell. 

My week: Mar 17-23, 2025

It’s been a quiet week – just the way I like ‘em – and, after a few unseasonably warm days, it has turned cooler again. If only it could stay this way. Evening walks with Glen have been a treat – chilly, damp, grey, bug-less. Just us and the four thousand gulls picking through the recently ploughed field.

There are no spring bulbs up yet, but they’re coming:

Merlin hasn’t detected any spring migrants yet, so it’s been all the usual suspects: American Crow, American Goldfinch, American Robin, Black-capped Chickadee, Black-headed Gull, Blue Jay, Canada Goose, Common Eider, Common Grackle, Common Raven, Gadwall, Hairy Woodpecker, House Sparrow, Killdeer, Mallard, Mourning Dove, Northern Cardinal, Northern Flicker, Red-winged Blackbird, Ring-billed Gull, Ring-necked Pheasant, Song Sparrow, Swamp Sparrow, White-breasted Nuthatch.

It hasn’t been a stellar photography week. Exhibit A: 

In my defence, he was waddling away from me as quickly as he could.

Exhibit B:

Again, in my defence, this was taken through a wet window across a rainy yard.

Exhibit C:

I forgot I’d changed the camera setting the night before (after an unsuccessful look for the aurora) and snapped what could be an intriguing album cover.

Now that I’ve finished all of Foyle’s War, I’m on to Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries in the evenings and I am loving both the soundtrack and the costumes. I’d probably skip the feather boas, but otherwise I’d wear her wardrobe in a heartbeat. I’ve been reading Three Blind Mice and Other Stories by Agatha Christie, A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman, What Your Body Knows About Happiness by Janice Kaplan and The Bean Book by Steve Sando.

An exciting visit to the Little Free Library:

I am powerless in the face of those kitschy covers. These were both published in 1959.

I spent quite a while moving books around this week in my never-ending game of Musical Bookcases. It’s a good opportunity to weed some titles I’m no longer interested in, I tell myself, yet somehow everything always makes it back onto the shelves. In other hoarding news, I made some progress on my yarn stash inventory (I should be knitting 16 hours a day, seven days a week), and finally got all the tea together to make an intimidating wall o’ loose tea packages in the pantry. No more David’s Tea shopping for me for the foreseeable future.