Nature's firsts....
Looked out my bedroom window when I awoke, and there it was. A crimson circle, just outside the pane, bright against the misty grey of a drizzly morning. I stared at it for a bit, momentarily puzzled by this long-lost joy during the long, unending wintery months of the Northcoast, but there it was. A camelia. The first bloom of the new year. The first at our new home.
Amazing. I know, from a practical point of view, that I must prune these bushes waaaayyyyyy back this year. They have been allowed to grow taller than the bedroom windows, and I am very partial to daylight. Actually, as long as I have daylight coming into my bedroom I never need an alarm clock. Still, the sight of this gorgeous, slowly unfurling blossom makes me wish I could leave them just as they are. How glorious to share the short days of cold January with such beauty.
I will add a picture as soon as I figure out how to get it from my camera to here :)
Next up, I glanced out the window here beside my desk, to see a Carolina wren darting across the floor of the screened porch. Curious. It didn't seem a bit distressed, but I thought it would probably be best to open the door to the outside, so it would have a way out. (although one of the doors is only a half door, and often open to accommodate the dogs, I wanted to be certain the little bird was safe) I went out to open the door, and the wren ran right out the half door.
I closed the main door and went back to my desk.
Shortly afterward I heard the wren warbling away. Loudly. I looked back out the window, and there it was....inside the porch again. This time he had a companion. Cute. A pair. They strolled about the floor like they were just checking things out. Maybe looking for a dry room to 'rent' till spring? Occasionally they would flit up to sit on one of the window ledges, the top of the freezer, or the bottom of the open dutch door. Or swoop up into my big hanging fern.
Aha. The fern, I rescued years ago from a snowbank where some neighbor had dumped it when the first hard Ohio frost browned its fronds. The fern I carried down here in the back seat of my car and hung in the friendly, mottled shade of the pear tree all fall. And, the fern I just brought inside the porch two nights ago because there was a frost warning.
Apparently my fern may also have been .... their fern.
I am willing to share. I like our new little boarders, and they seem quite content with their new accommodations.
Life is good.
Amazing. I know, from a practical point of view, that I must prune these bushes waaaayyyyyy back this year. They have been allowed to grow taller than the bedroom windows, and I am very partial to daylight. Actually, as long as I have daylight coming into my bedroom I never need an alarm clock. Still, the sight of this gorgeous, slowly unfurling blossom makes me wish I could leave them just as they are. How glorious to share the short days of cold January with such beauty.
I will add a picture as soon as I figure out how to get it from my camera to here :)
Next up, I glanced out the window here beside my desk, to see a Carolina wren darting across the floor of the screened porch. Curious. It didn't seem a bit distressed, but I thought it would probably be best to open the door to the outside, so it would have a way out. (although one of the doors is only a half door, and often open to accommodate the dogs, I wanted to be certain the little bird was safe) I went out to open the door, and the wren ran right out the half door.
I closed the main door and went back to my desk.
Shortly afterward I heard the wren warbling away. Loudly. I looked back out the window, and there it was....inside the porch again. This time he had a companion. Cute. A pair. They strolled about the floor like they were just checking things out. Maybe looking for a dry room to 'rent' till spring? Occasionally they would flit up to sit on one of the window ledges, the top of the freezer, or the bottom of the open dutch door. Or swoop up into my big hanging fern.
Aha. The fern, I rescued years ago from a snowbank where some neighbor had dumped it when the first hard Ohio frost browned its fronds. The fern I carried down here in the back seat of my car and hung in the friendly, mottled shade of the pear tree all fall. And, the fern I just brought inside the porch two nights ago because there was a frost warning.
Apparently my fern may also have been .... their fern.
I am willing to share. I like our new little boarders, and they seem quite content with their new accommodations.
Life is good.