Zooming in on the small grey-green bird

Home today. I almost made it to the three-day weekend before coming down with a snozzfest headcold. Adding to the sinus pain is an eye twitch. Herbert Lom's Chief Inspector Dreyfus had Clouseau. Like many teachers, I could name my eye twitch after a certain student, but I won't do that publicly! I could name the likely suspects who shared this headcold, too, but again, a bad idea.

In between naps I sat in a sunny spot and stared out the window. To my great joy, a small grey-green bird was hopping about the soapberry tree on the neighbor's patio. It only took fifty photos, three field guides, four checklists, and two websites to get a partial ID.  My feathered insect-eating friend seems to be a warbler. Maybe a prairie warbler. Feel free to jump in with a better suggestion. Its tummy and rump shone yellow in the bright sunshinne.

Been writing about winter visits by the small grey-green bird since shortly after my mother died. I've never gotten a good identification, but this guest always cheers me up.

 

The day warmed up to near sixty degrees, so perhaps insects became active. I watched a red admiral butterfly materialize from nowhere to circle the patio.  Two anole lizards were out back, too.

The next two days should be warm. My camera and bird books are waiting by the window with the box of tissues.



© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder

Wheemo-Whip ... the reptile sleeps tonight

 Wheemo-Whip is not the real name for the Marshmallow Fluff sandwich the three-year-old boy brought in his lunchbox. He brought a Fluffernutter, minus the peanut butter. Let me just say that I've never yet met a three-year-old boy for whom a Marshmallow Fluff sandwich is a good idea based on nutritional, behavioral, naptime and stickiness concerns. It ranks right up there with packing a popsicle in a lunchbox as a preschool teacher's bad dream.

Wheemo-Whip is also not the chorus for "The Lion Sleeps Tonight", but for a kid growing up under the influence of Kraft in the Sixties, it's a reasonable mistake. Miracle Whip, Cool Whip, Dream Whip, ergo Wheemo Whip. In the advertising jungle we kiddies were brainwashed for a generation.

Wheemo-Whip Ee e e um um a weh Yesterday this anole began a lengthy search for a comfortable position to camp out on the metal hummingbird garden ornament. My brain was hollering at the lizard, "Don't you know the cold front is coming? You are going to get way too cold!" Yes, it was 88 degrees today, but it'll be a high of 55 tomorrow!

Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh

Wheemo-Whip  I haven't been sleeping all that well since the day of the patio Texas Rat Snake. Visions of reptile and rodent sugarplums in my dryer vent were keeping me awake in the wee hours. Glad to report I've made friends with a visionary problem-solver in the wire and screen aisle of Home Depot. He concocted a solution using a downspout screen stuck in the dryer vent duct and completely understood my rat snake issues.  Best of all, it cost $2.68 + tax.

In the jungle, the condo jungle, CollageMama sleeps much better tonight.  Good to know neither reptile nor rodents will breach my security perimeter. Alas, I can't be so sure about the demonic pronunciation gremlins.  

Gabriel Garcia Marquez checks his rain gauge

Can't prove any of it happened. Maybe it was all dreams in another night of restlessness occasionally interrupted by sleep. But if it was a dream, where was the overloaded moving van, the treks through snakely rock ravines, the  incomprehensible bus schedules, the cafeteria line lacking trays, those Persion carpet flying rollerblades, unprepared art lessons, unwritten term papers, lost keys, brakeless cars, unlockable doors, and recurring crumbling teeth?










But still, it seemed like it rained today right when the preschoolers were going back inside from the playground.  Did we or did we not let plump drops fall on our heads, arms, and even tongues? Did we sniff the scent of precipitation on the air? Later did we really find that eighth of an inch of water in the rain gauge?

The anole was first spotted last evening on the parrot wind toy munching a transparent insect that didn't quite fit in its mouth. "Please chew with your mouth closed," I ask the five and six year olds to little avail.  "Please stand quite still so I can photograph you," I ask the little anole.

That's about when my Canon stopped working, so I suspect the lizard is magic. It has a white horn sticking up from its snout.  I've spotted it twice on the patio today. I pray the white protuberance is not just a massive nose goobie. We have plenty of those at school. A rain totem animal is what we need.

If all of the raindrops

Were lemon drops and gumdrops
Oh, if all of the raindrops
Were lemon drops and gumdrops
Oh, what a rain that would be!
I'd sit outside, with my mouth open wide
Singing La la la la, la la la...

© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

Rowdy neighbors, continuous party

I keep getting distracted from composing this post by the wild spring party outside my window.  For a week now the red admiral butterflies have been playing beach volleyball in wet t-shirts in the soapberry tree.  Cedar waxwings have fought for the karaoke mike.  Monarchs, swallowtails put in celebrity appearances, and a new stubby-tailed anole thinks he is the bouncer.

It's all just so 1974!

The soapberry blossoms have a scent one would not call "subtle". It is like Boone's Farm Apple Wine mixed with Clairol Herbal Essence shampoo.  Seems odd that it is "natural".


Maybe Mother Nature has been yarn-bombing and joining Zumba flash mobs.

Wild strawberry

Passionvine

Six-spotted green tiger beetle

People are even wearing platform shoes again, but I haven't seen any Famolare crepe soles.


Flagrant is not the word I'm searching for, nor blatant.  Conspicuous, yes, but that's not sufficiently pumped.  Even the word "SPRING" does not seem sufficiently fuchsia alligator crinkle-patent leather enough this year...She's got electric boots and a mohair suit.  You know I read it in a magazine....B-b-b-Bennie and the jets.

 © 2012 Nancy L. Ruder

Finally Friday night

It rained.

asymmetrical ankles

blue morpho butterfly

Buick in ecstasy

so long without rain  

This has been a week of frittering, taking refuge in very old stress relief habits of procrastination, compulsive grocery shopping, wandering around in Tuesday Morning, staring out at my patio jungle, and wondering why my ankles don't match.  One is concave, and the other convex.

The hummingbirds are gone. Haven't seen one at the patio feeder in over a week. An anole has claimed their feeder.

Dad is fighting, slapping, kicking, and hitting the nurses and aides.  Also me when I try to help out.

Overslept.  Felt like growling quite a bit. The growl forming in my throat and maxillary sinuses, the ones  behind my cheekbones.  The teeth clenching. The squint taking over my eyes. Used the coffee grinder, and got the morning pot too strong.

The preschoolers learning insects call that a "Blue Martha butterfly".  I can't help thinking of Stewart.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder