November 30: Crows up close

Along with the chickadees and titmice at my window feeders, crows are the most common, daily visitor to my office, in any season or weather. Today I was startled to look up from my computer and see half a dozen crows flush from right under my office window into a nearby birch. They must have been picking through the bird seed under my feeders. Or perhaps one of them saw a mouse picking through the bird seed cast-offs, as happens on occasion. The six of them sat there as if regrouping for their next great plan, undoubtedly hatching some clever, mischievous plot.

Later, as I was walking from the kitchen back to my office with a cup of tea, I saw a single crow sitting in a bush just ten feet from the window ahead of me. Right there. Looking in. Shades of Poe's Raven. It saw my movement and flew off, but I could swear it was checking us out.

Do I keep track of
the crows' comings and goings,
or do they watch me?

November 29: Snow and star

Driving home tonight as the snow was falling--gently but thoroughly--the lighted Santas on people's front lawns remained bright, but the lighted star on the tower atop Mount Battie was just a hazy blur.

Behind snow's swirl--
a full moon brighter
than holiday lights.

November 28: Dead squirrel

A dead squirrel this morning looked to me at first like a glove--one of those fisherman's big white rubber ones--lying at the side of the road. I was startled to realize what it really was as I drove past.

Snowflakes fall slowly.
Like a tossed glove,
road-killed squirrel.

November 27: First ice

In Belfast there's a tiny, city-owned pond called The Muck that sometimes hosts ducks or a heron--or skaters when it's frozen. As I drove by today, several gulls stood around in a loose group atop a thin skin of ice skimming the pond's surface. The ice is still so tenuous it probably wouldn't yet hold anything heavier than a bird. But it was perfect for a small gathering of gulls.

As if waiting all year
for this--gulls
balanced on new ice.

November 26: Stretch

While driving home from tonight's rigorous Pilates session, I pressed my sore spine as straight as I could into the car seat, trying to carry away some of the benefits of the exercises. The sky was clear tonight, illuminated by Jupiter and the waxing gibbous moon, and highlighted by the star lit atop Mount Battie.

After Pilates,
stretching my back
up to the moon.

November 25: Last day of hunting season

Blank, chilly white sky all day, but as I drove south yesterday afternoon the sunset created a vivid orange glow on the horizon, a line of color contoured by conifers. It was the last day of the regular season for hunting deer, and pickup trucks were parked at wooded edges all along Route 1. As dusk deepened, I saw a few hunters returning empty-handed to their trucks.

Glowing orange horizon.
Blaze orange of hunter
lit by his truck light.

Posted with Blogsy

November 24: Swan dream

Last night I dreamt a large white bird flew overhead. At first I thought it might be a Whooping Crane, and I was very excited, but it flew so close that I could see its face: not a crane, but a swan. The bill had a very distinctive yellow and black pattern which, in my dream, at least, led me to recognize it as a Tundra Swan, a very unusual bird to appear in this part of Maine. (In real life, this species has a black bill completely unlike that of the bird in my dream.) Seeing a rare species combined with the large bird's nearness, the intimate look, was thrilling in the dream, and when I awoke, felt somehow auspicious, as well.

A fun website that describes itself as "The doorway to signs and symbolic meanings" tells me, among other interpretations: "Fittingly, the Celtic goddess Brigid is also associated with the swan as her grace is expressed with equal elegance in the form of writing (poetry) and song." I like that connection, of course, because Brigid is the patron saint/goddess of poetry.

This thought resonated with me, as well: "In dreams, the swan asks us to spread our wings and take flight into our waking dreams. She also encourages us to strengthen our relationships, as well as make new, long-lasting bonds with people whom we admire." This seemed especially apt as my husband and I had just had dinner with a couple whom we've gotten to know better only recently, and whom we hope to spend more time with.

Cold morning sky, white
as the swan in my dream--
inspire me.

November 23: Black Friday

Calling this absurdly overhyped shopping day Black Friday just increases its disturbing aspect by making it sound rather morbid, like that old standard "Gloomy Sunday." Instead of shopping at 6:00 a.m. or camping out at some mall, I walked around Beauchamp Point on Rockport Harbor this morning, reconnecting with an old friend and enjoying the sunshine. Turns out she and her husband have applied to adopt a child from Korea, which was welcome news because they've wanted a child for a while now.
 
No stores in sight.
We talk of children,
watch the dog wander.

Posted with Blogsy

November 22: Thanksgiving

Things I am thankful for (so far) today:

Being awakened by my affectionate cat
Blue sky
the New York Times crossword puzzle
Walk up Beech Hill with my mother, sister, and two nieces
Two mice mating, playing, or otherwise squabbling in the weeds, trailside
My niece's fascination with bayberries
The scent of crushed bayberries
My other niece's joy in banging two rocks together
Distant red of autumn-burnished blueberry fields
Good health
Free time for my husband to write
A little free time for me to write too
Not losing the Thanksgiving turkey, brining on my parents' porch this morning, to a fox
Crows on the lawn
Cat's amusing attempts to jump through the windows at birds and squirrels

Prayer flags and dry leaves
stir in the breeze,
share blessings.

November 21: Eagle visitation

Since my office is on the Megunticook River, we're often visited by geese, various ducks, and the occasional Osprey or Bald Eagle following the water path either inland to the lake or downriver to Camden Harbor. This morning before work, as I was out combing the bushes for a Pine Grosbeak, an eagle flew downriver to perch across the water right in front of me. Immediately, about a dozen ducks panicked and flew out of range.

The eagle preened and looked around for a while, but mostly just sat there--a full-grown adult with white head and tail, meaning it was at least four years old. With binoculars I could see its bright yellow bill and notice that its head feathers were a bit dingy. Perhaps it's the same bird we often see perched on that snag or on the dead tree at the edge of our parking lot. A little while after I went inside, my co-workers and I watched it fly low just past the office windows, giving us a perfect view. In this season of gratitude, I feel grateful indeed that eagles are a regular visitor to my neighborhood. And equally grateful that observing these dramatic birds of prey is just another, acceptable part of my work day.

Another work day,
another eagle. I hope
I never get used to it.

November 20: Morning frost

I find myself fascinated by the frost coating each leaf and blade of grass these cold, late fall mornings. The sere, wilted vegetation is transformed into something beautiful once again, particularly when the sun rises and makes a field, or forest, glitter.

Sunlight on frosty leaves--
a moment of brilliance
soon melted away.