...and with it our annual sparrow tenants, Ozzie and Harriet, are once more in the garage, dive-bombing us if we go to get into the cars. They've come back for the fifth year, using the same old undisturbed nest in the never-will-be-fixed-now garage door opener, and their first batch of eggs has been laid. They'll switch back and forth sitting on it, and when it's their turn to fly free they perch on the huge birdfeeder in the back yard and stock up. Occasionally Ozzie, being braver than his wife, will come and sit on the rail of the deck while I work at my table, and chirp at me. That's very cute, but the hunningbirds will be back soon and that's where their feeder is.
This year we also have a resident mockingbird whose specialty seems to be imitating animals other than birds. Yesterday, it was crickets. The day before, it was the pack of coyotes who are marauding through the neighborhood. Just now, it's yelling at the dove that's gleaning from the spillover under the bird feeder.
My flowers are thriving: my crocuses and daffodils are in full bloom, as is the ancient lilac tree in my side yard. I call it ancient because while in full bloom it has a diameter of probably 12 feet. I sit underneath it sometimes to hide from the world; the boughs are so heavy with blossoms that they bow all the way to the ground. I'd probably LIVE there for these two glorious weeks of spring if I didn't have sinuses. All of the flowering trees are having an outstanding spring--dogwoods, tulip trees, magnolias, the cherry trees---our hill and the cliff behind it are streaked with violent hues of purple and pink and red.
It is lovely--lovely and warm and breezy and fresh. After the winter we had this year, it's a welcome change from the monochromatic greys that were left after the snow melted. Fortunately for me, spring is also a time of creation.
While Ozzie and Harriet have been divebombing me, I'm up to 58k on my new project.