March around here is really coming in like a Lion. We’ve had snow squalls, and now wind. The wind blew hard all night long, and it’s still blowing. The poor little birdies that come to the feeding station are getting blown off their feet. All I can hear is the roaring noise of the wind through the trees. The trees bend to and fro, giving in to the onslaught. When it stops it will be as if I’ve been rendered deaf as I’ve adjusted my hearing to it. We have a temperature of 11 degrees this morning, with a wind chill of -11. It’s downright nasty out there. I don’t like the wind much; never have. But, perhaps it’s Mother Nature’s way of pruning the dead branches out of our trees before they leaf out. Yes, instead of sitting here moaning about the wind, I hereby choose to think of it as a positive thing. I can’t change it, might as well bend with it.

I have started a separate page for keeping track of the bears so as not to bore anybody with all my bear sightings. If you’re interested in the bears’ goings-on on a daily basis, check out my Bear Diary under Lynne’s Favorite Links. Nothing grand, just my way of keeping track of when and where I see them.

Bears aren’t the only visitors to our yard. Yesterday afternoon, very late, the bears were walking the perimeter of our yard outside the barrier of the fence and I watched them forage around for awhile. A short while later as it was getting dark [close to 6:00 p.m.] I looked out the window to see if they were still around and I saw something walking in the woods. Not a bear! I ran looking for the binoculars, but by the time I found them I didn’t need them any longer as the visitors were already crossing the driveway into the front yard. Lovely, sweet, white-tailed deer! We haven’t seen deer very often, which is strange considering the density of woods surrounding us. Sorry for the not-so-great photos as it was really too dark and I was trying to shoot over the window and got the bottom of the frame in. But at least you can see their sweet expression, even if they are a little blurry.

They were skittish, but obviously knew where the bird seed could be found. They only stayed a few short minutes before they bounded away, their white flag tails held straight up. We counted about eight deer altogether. Sometimes I feel like I am living in a game park.

Since March is coming in like a Lion, I certainly hope that it’s going to do as it should and go out like a Lamb. We can only hope!

I just took this photo of this little guy spotted at my feeder this morning. He caught my eye because he was not one of the regulars. I had to look him up in the bird book, and his rusty-colored, heavily streaked breast and plump little body gave him away. Also the fact that he was scratching around in the seeds like a chicken, flinging seed with his feet. He’s a Fox Sparrow.

My bird book shows him wintering in south Jersey and says ‘is seen under seed feeders during spring and autumn migrations.’  So there you have it. He’s made it all the way from south Jersey to north Jersey so far! Spring is on its way even though it sure doesn’t feel like it today with a chill wind blowing and temps expected to plummet to the the teens by tomorrow. Lead on little sparrow!

THE DREAM:

The pool has begun weaving its spell again. It’s been sending out tendrils of water that weave in and around my thoughts, wrapping around my brain.

uncover me ... it whispers ...
swim! swim! swim!

It’s been a long time since I’ve done any Pool Reflection entries. It seems like ages ago that we were happily swimming laps in our pool and lolling around on our chair floats. I have fond memories of the nightly swims when the only light was cast from the glow of Tiki torches and the winking of the fireflies in the grass. The cicada symphony the only sound. The silken feel of cool water against bare skin.  ~ Ahhhh…. ~  It’s getting closer all the time, this dream of mine, but it will have to wait a bit longer I’m afraid.

THE REALITY:

Our pool still lies in hibernation under its blanket of icy sludge. Sigh. Keep weaving your spell, dear pool, May 11th will be here before you know it ...

To follow the progression of our pool’s transmogrification after we moved in, see this entry from last year.
To read last year’s Pool Reflections series, just enter ‘pool’ into the search capability.

Spring will be coming soon if last night’s deluge of rain is anything to go by. If you remember, a few months back I did three squares for Gracious Parcels, a charity knitting project headed up by a blogger friend of mine, Firefly. [See her link under Lynne’s Favorites in my sidebar.] Knitters from all over the world have contributed squares for her blankets that are distributed to families in need through a local Habit for Humanity. [If you follow the Gracious Parcels link above you will see a finished blanket.]

The colors and yarns I chose this time were inspired by spring and summer. The nubby lilac colored square is supposed to represent bunches of lilac flowers. The blue square is variegated like water, and I chose a chevron pattern to form ‘Vs’ like ripples in a lake or stream; and the square in progress is a strawberry-raspberry color done in a checkerboard which I hope will look like pints of those luscious berries when completed. This is all in my mind’s eye of course, and other people may see them as representing something else entirely.

I have fun choosing yarn and then a pattern to best represent what I want to portray. And, I’m constantly teaching myself new stitch patterns. So, it’s a win-win situation. It gives me a creative outlet, and at the same time I am donating my time and efforts to a very good cause. I like the thought of my stitches warming someone’s heart and lap. It’s a good thing.

I have a thing for trees, Okay, so I’m admitting it. Walking around the French Quarter, it was impossible to miss these stately trees. I didn’t know what they were, and finally one day my walking partner asked someone and they told us they were magnolias. I had no idea magnolias grew that large.

I had never seen such trees where a single, huge limb spread ever outward, unsupported for such great lengths. Such shiny, smooth bark. They called out to me from their protective fenced-in gardens. I wanted to reach out my hand and touch their smooth surface, to tap into their strength and feel the power of the Earth surging through them.

I found this poem below which seems to sum it up for me.

Can you imagine them in bloom?