Juncos Enjoying a Meal

The Juncos have arrived – on masse. They are easily spotted against the thin coating of snow we had this weekend. They have dark upper feathers and white bellies and bustle about in search of seed. Sparrow-sized and sparrow related, these birds are often found in backyards nibbling under feeders. They prefer ground feeding but will hop up to a feeder if the pickings below are slim. Dark-eyed Junco is an overall designation for several forms that had been thought to be different species. The formerly called Slate-colored Junco is the one most seen in the east but Juncos range widely over Canada and all of North America. They are often called snowbirds down south because they appear in winter.

They scurry under the bare branches of the butterfly bush looking for a meal. They avoided the whole-grain cereal we had thrown out, leaving the crunchy nuggets for the squirrels, and discovered s stash of sunflower seeds that had been shaken free when the feeders were refilled. They are fairly common yet I find them appealing, with their lively movements and sweet chipping. I’m always glad when they show up.

Common doesn’t negate their beauty or value. Doesn’t everything/everyone have value and individuality? People are common but each one of the billions of us on earth is different, contributing in his or her own way to the energy of the planet. I read that Juncos eat ragweed seeds and as I am allergic to ragweed I am doubly happy to see them.

Their cousins, the sparrows, have come by, as have the finches. A lot of fluttering going on. Inside my warm kitchen I put on the teapot. The feeders will be refilled when we have all finished enjoying our afternoon snack.

Read up on Juncos here and for true bird enthusiasts sign up for their free monthly newsletter.

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/dark-eyed_junco/id/ac#at_content

Fences…Defenses

Fences are made of lots of materials: wood, metal, plastic, trees, shrubs, roses, hedges, stones, pretty much whatever a person can think of to make a boundary. The boundary exists to define an area. The area may be one that is set apart to describe its contents (a garden, perhaps?) or to keep out strangers whether people or animals, or in the case of an electric fence, to keep pets inside. Sometimes a fence is more of a suggestion than a barrier, as are the trees here, but a fence always makes a visual statement – all within the enclosure is mine.

I find fences interesting. I understand the symbolism of both protection and avoidance, of keeping things in and warning things away, of maintaining control of an environment. Yet, as with physical fences, symbolic fences often have a way of getting rusty or overgrown or outliving their original purpose. We can trap ourselves behind our own emotional fences. Years ago I lost a friendship because I constructed a fence around a perception of hurt and did not allow a discussion to clarify the situation. Now I try to at least keep an open gate in any fences I construct. It’s kind of freeing. And it gives poignant meaning to the phrase “mending fences.”

Here is a history of fences and how they influenced cultural development and thought and possibly more than you ever thought about the subject: http://www.nyu.edu/pubs/counterblast/fence.htm

The Quiet of Snow

The Quiet of Snow

We had a little bit of snow last week, nothing much, just a layer of flakes on the lawns and sidewalks. It was melted by mid-morning but it was enough to remind me that the season is winter in spite of the record high temperatures. More than that, though, it brought a pause to an ordinary day. I find that snow quiets its surroundings and brings an awareness of beauty with its soft, white voice. Therese Halscheid captured this in the photo, “Autumn Snow on the Wickecheoke, 2012.”

Therese Halscheid, a poet and photographer, has been chronicling her poetic journey for the past eighteen years. Housesitting has allowed her to live simply, write and photograph unusual and rustic settings. She is scheduled for a solo exhibit, The Stockton Natural series, in early February. Her photographs document weather and its effects on the Wickecheoke Creek ind its surroundings in Pennsylvania. In this photo the interplay of sun and shadow, snow, and early morning mists capture the place’s mystical elements.

The exhibition runs February 2 to February 29 at Carversville General Store, 6208 Fleecydale Road,Carversville, PA 18913. For a real treat come meet Therese at the Opening Reception, Friday February 3, at 6:30-8:30. Maybe I'll see you there.

www.ThereseHalscheid.com

thalscheid@cs.com

Spider Plant Reaching

What busy days are holidays! Everyone seems occupied with the special things that make holidays so festive. With so much happening there is little time to notice when the ordinary things around us take on their own exceptional characteristics. And so my Spider plant grew and grew until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. When I finally gave it my attention I was surprised at how far it had reached despite my neglect or perhaps because of it.

Spider plants are easy to grow, beginner plants if you will, and almost foolproof for anyone to grow. They need little water and actually prefer dry soil. They also would rather not be in direct sunlight as their leaves are disposed to turn brown. As they mature they send out “babies” that can be clipped and repotted to make new plants. Spider plants do tend elongate so they need space to hang down. Hanging baskets are good places to grow them.

I appreciate houseplants that have a sense of self, that can thrive through their own strength and joie de vivre to what might be considered challenging conditions. My aloe plants, and there are several, have that same defining ability. They seem to laugh when I forget to water them and then put out new growth. The spider plant spreads its leaves and stretches further, calling for me to check its soil and give it what it needs.

Plants teach me stuff. I hope that I can be as resilient, as adaptable, should life require it of me.

Try growing a spider plant for yourself:

http://www.plant-care.com/spider-plant.html

Woodpecker Pecking Away

Look who we found on the bird feeder! Quite a big guest compared to the usual denizens. And what a treat to see - a Red-bellied Woodpecker. That would explain the different kinds of bird voices I have been hearing lately. I think I saw both a male and female chowing down. Woodpeckers are common in Eastern woodlands but as more woodland is being used for human habitats, I guess my slightly wooded backyard may have drawn them in.

As the weather cools down the crowd on the feeders heats up. Often the feeders are packed with finches and sparrows but there are others that find a meal here, too. Cardinals are regular visitors and now that the leaves have fallen, the brilliant red of the male cardinal is like a beacon on the bare branches. We see goldfinches (New Jersey’s state bird), chickadees, and nuthatches on a regular basis. There are wrens and cowbirds and the occasional hawk. And I mustn’t forget to acknowledge the blue jays – there are currently several of them visiting the feeders. Right now I am listening to a finch symphony from the forsythia bush on the side of my house.

I love seeing the variety of colors and personalities on the feeders. I think it is important for people to be sensitive to other life forms. Birds are usually a pleasing connection for most of us (though a raid by grackles on the black oil seed can prove costly). I think being aware of others helps us to be more expansive within ourselves. So peck away, woodpecker, and thank you for dropping by.

For info, sounds, and photos, this site by Cornell University is terrific:

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/browse_tax.aspx?family=45

Plum Tree Epiphany

During the spring our flowering plum tree puts out beautiful leaves and buds, always a joy to see. In the summer the branches fill out and spread giving our front lawn shade and elegance. It is truly lovely to look at though its unbridled growth was beginning to cause problems. I have always had trouble pruning plants; it somehow seemed to be an assault on the plant’s natural development. But this tree was getting out of hand, reaching out over the lower roof and heading toward our neighbor’s house. We all had to duck to walk toward our backyards. So as autumn approached, we trimmed the tree hoping to keep the next spring’s growth away from both houses. I had to admit that it looked neater when the trimming was done.

Only now that winter is just about here, we discovered some other consequences of unbridled growth. The tree had created so much shade that the Japanese cutleaf maple growing several feet away was affected. It was hard to tell in the summer as both plants put out reddish leaves but in the bareness of fall it was startling. The maple was full and bushy on the right and sparse and pathetic on the left, nearest the plum tree. The growth of one inhibited the life expression of the other.

Oh, how I wish I had trimmed the plum years ago. It obviously had not hurt the tree and it would have prevented the asymmetrical growth of the maple, which was doing its best to survive. An example of unintended consequences. But even more than that, here is a reminder of how everything we do has an extended effect. If it is so dramatic with plum and maple trees, how much more so with people? I know it isn’t possible to be aware of the full impact we have through our actions but it gives me pause to realize that each of us has the power to change the world we live in one thought, one action, one child, one plant at a time.

Here is some info on Japanese cutleaf maple trees, truly a lovely garden feature:

http://www.qscaping.com/NetPS-Engine.asp?CCID=20000011&page=pdp&PID=5838

A Drive to Nowhere

I like to take what my five-year-old grandson calls a drive to nowhere, to get in the car and discover what is out there. Recently my husband and I drove to Mt. Holly, NJ, an historic town that has a revolutionary war history. The old stone houses recall its glory days, though the town has seen some hard times since. As we drove around we found a wooded area tucked behind its busy Main Street. We got out to explore. There was a leafy, trodden path that led up a hill. It was a lovely day so we took our time to climb. Along the way a jogger appeared. “Quite a hill,” he said as he continued past us. Yes, it was, and quite a view from the top.

Was this a virgin forest? How come it hadn’t been developed? Hills usually are no impediment to a bulldozer. But I was glad it had been left alone. There were a few survey markers along the path but otherwise we had the world to ourselves. It was an exhilarating feeling, primal and beautiful. We finally wended our way back toward the road, skirting the houses on the edge of the woods. Our drive to nowhere led us to a grand place.

I can understand an explorer’s impetus to go beyond the accepted knowledge. The familiar often fades into the background. A drive or walk to nowhere brings out qualities of nature, not that they are hidden but rather they are overlooked. Busy lives leave little room for slow observation. Every now and then it is worth setting aside the known for the new. Something fresh, seen with open eyes and an inquisitive mind, expands the spirit. And that, to me, really makes it a drive to somewhere worthwhile.