There is an unspoken rule that winter is not allowed to happen while autumn is still working on dropping leaves. And winter should hold off until November, preferably until after Thanksgiving. December is acceptable.
We all know winter doesn’t play by the rules.
Waking up to this while it’s still October set back my cheery outlook:
Insult to injury were the winds of 14+ mph all through the day. A few birds attempted to visit the feeder, like this persevering mourning dove.
Not being a winter fan (I don’t ski, walking is curtailed, and hammocking is postponed) snow is definitely a four-letter word in my realm.
Trying to recoup the day I tried to find some positives. A cozy fire was made, a cup of cocoa while I edited a manuscript, fave Pandora station in the background, a new jigsaw puzzle, and a stack of books from the library. Oh, leaf raking is on hold and the yard looks tidier with the leaves hidden by that fresh snow topping.
Okay, not so bad after all, especially since it all melted by 1 pm.
I can’t fight winter🥶
I can find ways of coping, and this winter preview made me realize that snow doesn’t have to ruin my outlook. Keep the cocoa coming and always have a few books on the ready and it will be April before I know it.
The junco is a common bird, true; however, it has plenty of personality. We learned about juncos this winter when we took to tossing out birdseed under the living room window to avoid trudging in the snow to fill the feeder. Daily a troop of birds ranging from sparrows to doves to juncos would pop by. The consistent crew was a group we referred to as the Jolly Juncos. They would merrily hop about foraging for food in their somber dark hoods and grey suits. They were determined and undeterred in their daily sweep for seed. They helped break the monotony of winter.
In spring we were delighted to find a junco had created a nest in one of my hanging flower baskets.
Leave for a long weekend and surprise!
Quite an artful rendering
Yes, the eggs are tiny
Four eggs!
Mama bird settling in for sitting
Hatchling!
Feed me!
Feed me two!
Dad bird shows up with groceries
Mama bird takes a nest stretch
Unfortunately the birds flew the coop early, no doubt due to the fact that they nested in our patio area and we go through there multiple times a day. I felt terrible until I read about a ornithologist who runs into the same problem when studying juncos. The extra attention needed to band them for tracking can force fledglings to leave the nest early, but the good news is that the survival rate is high. This (I told myself) is what probably happened with our four little nestlings. Mama did return once or twice to the empty nest then disappeared.
I miss having our little junco family as neighbors and wonder if they will return next year.
Look up! It’s a full moon! It’s the Worm Moon! Worm Moon? Yes. It’s the Worm Moon.
As over the moon I am about full moons I am not familiar with tonight’s Worm Moon. I’m not squeamish about worms but naming a full moon after these little earth burrowers simply goes against logic and romantic notions. The moon is the silver lady in the sky or the beaming gentleman among the stars (no bias). Attaching “worm” to the full moon status is perplexing.
Good old Farmer’s Almanac helped me out on this one. The March 7th full moon is the Worm Moon because (ready for the drumroll…) winter has passed and the ground is warming up signaling spring is near and the worms are waking up to surface to feed the incoming birds.
Replay that. Winter has passed? Spring is near? Robins and etc are landing to snack on the worms?
Winter has not passed. Spring? HAHAHA This guy is not a worm snacker. Haven’t seen a robin for a long, long time.
I’m looking forward to the rest of the year’s moons. Join me wherever you are and we will gaze up at the night sky in shared appreciation. Worm Moon, indeed…
I do so like the moon in all its phases. And the twinkly stars. And the shining planets. And all those flashy meteor showers. Oh, and I do like a good old eclipse, be it sun or lunar.
This summer I have diligently tried my best often a couple of times to venture in the wee hours to catch celestial wonder action.
I am more determined to catch a full moon, especially super moons, being that are usually breathtaking and enter the night stage with much aplomb. The past couple of years has seen a ratchet in my moon madness. My dedication is just short concern. Werewolves frighten the socks off me, so that is not an issue. I just really, like the moon.
The hubs ever happy to find a gift that brings delight (I’m not huge on stuff, being a minimalist) gave me a moon calendar this year for Christmas (not knowing I had picked one up from the Dollar Store). I was, over the moon, with his present. Especially when I heard what lengths he went to purchase it. He went on line. This from a man who owns a shirt that says “I hate cyberspace.” This is a love of true depth and devotion.
My backyard moon scape is not as profound, but still worth a watch
I have even subscribed to The Farmer’s Almanac web version to make sure I don’t miss any cool moon and planet action.
Like the planet alignment. You caught that, didn’t you? Wow! Right? I convinced the hubs to sit with on lawn chairs on our driveway and peer up into the night sky at about 4 am to catch this once in a lifetime event. Well, the next time it happens I might be too old to even care about celestial happenings, so I wanted this sighting to count.
There is nothing like getting up what seems like the middle of the night to sit outside bundled up and slightly cold and definitely sleepy, to wait for something that might show up or then again might not. I hear elk hunters experience this. No shooting is involved in star gazing unless it’s a star that took a wrong turn.
I followed the BBC Science Focus, suggested best time to see the 2022 alignment of between 3:39 a.m. and sunrise at 4:43 a.m. on the morning of 24 June 2022. At 4:30 a.m. the show began. An hour of stargazing in the early morn is one thing, but having the neighbor catch us at it is another. When we pointed to the sky at the planets queing as if waiting for their early Starbucks, he nodded and acknowledged the event with a “Cool” before going off wherever he goes at 4:30 in the morning.
Planetary alignment. Check it out:
Couldn’t quite see Mercury, yet I hear it’s a shy planet
July’s sky sponsored a super moon—the Buck Moon, the largest moon of 2022. Another required early morn venture. At 2:30ish of the a.m. that moon did rise up out the southeast as splendid as a Banksy rendering. Super, yes. More like superlative. The fact that super moons are more than once in a lifetime do not lessen their appeal.
Hey, it’s not all about you
Here it is August. What’s on the menu? The Pleiades Meteor Showers, of course. And of course they are best seen at “you want me to get up at 3 a.m.?” This time the hubs said give him the details later like after the sun and he was up.
The first night I struggled up at 2:30 a.m. Just in case the show started early. Not sure how to watch for meteors, and being sleepy, I stood up and leaned my back against the truck and watched. Nothing but a crick in the neck and an overpowering desire to go back to bed. The hubs was not impressed by my meager details.
What I hoped for…
Three nights later I found myself awake at 4 a.m. and this time I had a plan. I bundled up and went to the backyard and climbed into my faithful hammock. This is the best way to watch for anything in the night sky because if there is a starry night no show I can take a comfortable nap. A minute or three goes by. Wait—yes, a falling star. Or maybe that was a star taking a dive off of Venus, since it seemed to ever so slowly dribble downwards. Not too impressive. I’ll wait some more. Ooh—what’s that zipping across the sky with such purpose? Suddenly I feel like an extra from October Sky watching Sputnik threaten my American democracy. Okay, that was entertaining. Another minute or two. The hammock is dampish. I’m sleepy. Hungry, too. Wait—up in in the sky…Is it a falling star? Is it a satellite? A zipping vertical flash—it’s a meteor!
Fulfilled checklist. One lone meteor does not constitute the dizzying scurry of meteors I envisioned, but I’m hungry and the hammock is dampish.
and what I pretty much viewed.
This time the hubs met me at the door as I returned. What must he think about this nocturnal sojourning of mine? He’s happy that I’m happy. We read and go back to bed. I forgot to eat something. So glad for bananas on the counter.
The last super moon of the year will be Thursday, August 11th. The Sturgeon Moon will appear at the very acceptable hour of 6:30 p.m. Thank you. Consider this as my RSVP.
Nothing fishy about appreciating a full moon
And here it is September and the famous Harvest Moon is scheduled for Saturday the 10th. All this week we have watched fill in from a glowing crescent to a radiant cheese ball in the sky. It already is impressive. I am looking forward to its full prominence Saturday night.
Are you over the moon about celestial night viewing? What’s your favorite night sky item?
Neil Young helps to usher out the summer with its moon glorious adventures:
Not sure if we have adopted a squirrel or if she has adopted us.
It began with me spotting a medium grey squirrel bounding across the lawn. A somewhat unusual sight. Deer are more frequent visitors. Squirrel activity diminished with dogs moving into the neighborhood.
Or so we thought.
Upon spotting the bounding squirrel I mustered up my squirrel call. You know the one, that high-pitched ch-ch-ch the do. Yeah. She was impressed and came leaping right over to me. She look fairly surprised to find me instead of a swaggering grey suited critter of interest.
Since then she has shown little fear of hanging out in the yard with us. Costco is making a tidy profit from the bags of peanuts the hubs buys for her.
She will cautiously approach us and grab a peanut from our fingers. Rolling and measuring its worth in her mouth she will then deposit it in some part of the yard. Digging like a little terrier she pats it in place with dainty satisfaction and traipses over for more. I split them open because once open she tastes that peanuttyness and snacks right on the spot, inches from where I sit on the bench. Syringa, does truly work for peanuts.
Now we have a couple of new additions. A tiny sable squirrel who discovered the neighbor’s squirrel proof bird feeder could not deter him. He used our fence as a diner freeway until trashing the bird feeder in less than two weeks. He has moved on the freebie peanuts laid out for Syringa. She’s having none of it.
Their tussles and chitterings range across the lawn and through the lily leaves. Entertaining turf wars at its best. We call this little guy Skitter, since he moves as fast as a drop of water on the pancake skillet. He’s too fast to snap a photo.
And a third squirrel has appeared. Yet, this one is a puzzlement. I notice it is small with characteristic squirrel gray coloring yet its eye rings are white like a chipmunk and so is its tummy. The legs are brownish. A hybrid squirrel? We’ve dubbed this one Buddy, as in “Hey, Buddy—what are you?”
The birds are beginning to vacate the area for warmer climates so there is less action at the feeder. On the other hand, the colder weather is ramping up squirrel activity as they gather nuts and bury them all over the yard. I find peanuts in my plant containers, in flower beds, and all over the lawn. How will they find them all?
Syringa will come over and spread out on the concrete like a dog when we are hanging out back. Classic splooting stance.Buddy infiltrating Syringa’s snack tray. Strange markings for a squirrel, wouldn’t you say?
Pam Webb 