It’s winter here, with storm fronts headed our way.
Birds know when it’s going to get rough and they stock up just like humans do.
All the birds have been hungry, emptying feeders daily.
We even put out suet to help them fuel up.
In return they’ve allowed me to grab a few images from my warm living room.
I love my birds. They’re not aware of the one shot one treat rule.
So far anyway.
I read the book in the summer of 2016. It remains one of my favorite books, though now in 2022 I remember the feelings I had reading it more than the details of the story itself.
Just this week, while noting the buzz about the new Tom Hanks movie, I learned there had been a movie made in Sweden based on the book, back in 2016, and that that version is available through Amazon Prime right now.
We have Amazon Prime.
But before I get ahead of myself, here’s the review I wrote after reading this lovely book six years ago:
“I loved it. Every bit of it, and especially the crotchety old man Ove. Little by little, baby step by baby step the author explains why Ove is as he is by revealing bits of his past. His relationship with his parents. His love for his wife. The bits of drama and tragedy that shaped him. He is sullen and moody and angry but all of that seems reasonable in an unreasonable sort of way.
I can’t tell you more or it would spoil it for you. Just know that under that gruff exterior is a gentle and loving man who just didn’t know what to do with himself until a crazy neighbor moved into his neighborhood.
The writing is gentle and profound and simple and true.
“And time is a curious thing. Most of us only live for the time that lies right ahead of us. A few days, weeks, years. One of the most painful moments in a person’s life probably comes with the insight that an age has been reached when there is more to look back on than ahead.”
“It is difficult to admit that one is wrong. Particularly when one has been wrong for a very long time.”
“But we are always optimists when it comes to time; we think there will be time to do things with other people. And time to say things to them.”
I didn’t want this one to end. But I knew it had to…everything does, and Ove had been trying to end things for a very long time. It’s just that the neighbors interfered with his plans, and in the process gave him a reason to postpone the inevitable.
Ove had a heart that was too large. You’d never know it when you first met him. But if you let him in you’d know that truth for sure.“
So anyway, with vague memories of a book I loved, my husband and I sat down last night to watch the original movie complete with English subtitles. Some small bits I didn’t remember, but the gist was all there. I remember sighing with tears in my eyes at the end of the book. The tears were running down my face at the end of the movie.
I knew it would be that way…but I was surprised about why my eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t the ending, which I knew, but the fact that I suddenly saw my own parents in Ove and his wife, and I truly, madly, hope that what I saw at the end of the movie is true.
But I can’t tell you what that is, because I don’t want to spoil it for you.
I’ll probably go see the Hanks version, set in the US instead of Sweden. No need for subtitles. I’ll probably enjoy it, maybe even love it. But I doubt it will pack the emotional punch I experienced last night.
Because when you’re expecting it, it’s just not the same.
We have a squirrel problem at our house, made worse by the number of birdfeeders the fuzzy marauders have to choose from.
So we have a caged feeder that little birds flit in and out of regularly. The littles were never nervous about it, right from the start.
But the bigger birds don’t fit inside the cage. They have to do with the nearby flat feeder, or whatever seed has fallen to the ground.
Sometimes they get jealous and try to figure out how to get to the seeds in the caged feeder.
And if they have a really long tongue and are especially tenacious…
…they can be successful!
While out at my favorite park trying to get shots of birds I learned a lesson.
You have to be quick. Otherwise you get a lot of this.
Not that I mind too much. This was cool too.
While I was walking the boardwalk searching for the Queen I noticed these cranes through the bushes and across the road.
What were they watching, I wondered?
Oh. You wouldn’t think there’d be so much traffic on a cold mid-week afternoon.
Don’t worry, no cranes (or runners) were injured in the capturing of these images.
But I wonder if these guys don’t think it’s about time to head south?
I was out there to meet the Queen. I’d been trying to get an audience with her for several weeks. But she’s a Royal and follows her own rules. I’m used to that.
You see, almost every day I’d see, on Facebook, a photographer who calls herself the “Hand of Snacks” feeding a female cardinal along the boardwalk at my favorite park.
Lots of birds come down to any number of hands filled with snacks at this park, but cardinals are famously shy. Quite stand-offish. So to see this female sitting in a hand regularly intrigued me. And I drove the 30+ minutes every week or so, hoping to get to meet her Majesty for myself. Oh, I’d see her – sitting in the scrub along the boardwalk. I’d offer a treat. She’d watch me. But she never showed any interest in getting to know me better. Week after week I’d leave disappointed.
This Wednesday, there she was, sitting among the twigs of a dogwood bush with her partner, the bright red Mr. Cardinal. And that morning she seemed interested in me. She moved out to the end of the branch and eyed me up and down. I stood still, gifts offered. She flew to the railing, quite a far bit away from me and eyed me some more.
Clearly I was not her Hand of Snacks. I was an imposter. But she was hungry. But I was an imposter. Could she trust me? Would she trust me? She hopped along the railing to get a closer look. She looked up at me and then down at the snacks in my hand. I stood still, barely breathing.
And then she reached out, her feet still firmly planted on the railing, she wasn’t going to actually stand on my hand, and grabbed an oiler seed, moving rapidly away from me to eat it. I stood still.
She hopped over again and helped herself to another treat, not moving so far away this time…and then she grabbed a peanut and with a slight nod to me, she flew back into the bushes to share it with her partner.
And the politely waiting chickadee hopped up onto my hand to see what she had left behind.
Now I can say I’ve met the Queen. And it was everything I knew it would be.
I’m sitting here watching my birds at our feeders. We have a lot of feeders, starting out with one we thought they could all share…then realizing that some birds aren’t sharers at heart.
Now I fill 4 feeders every morning, and hope I can go the rest of the day without heading out to fill them again. But with the weather this week, all the wind and cold and snow, the birds were ravenous and I ended up out there more than once on each cold, nasty day.
Anyway, the year is winding down and I feel like I should be reflecting on 2022. But, in our family, it was a difficult year and one that might best be let go without any formality.
Best, maybe, to anticipate next year. I am very hopeful about 2023.
I’m hoping there are camping adventures waiting in the woods, perhaps even near a dark sky park.
I am hopeful for clear warm summer nights when the moon is new, and wild stormy cloud filled skies during afternoon barn searches.
I’m hopeful for lush gardens of vibrant flowers filled with fat buzzing bees and the whisper of hummingbird wings.
I’m hopeful for red ripe tomatoes warmed by the afternoon sun, and bluebirds nesting in their boxes way out in the yard.
I’m hopeful for a long bike ride or two, and more than a couple kayak trips down a river or across a lake.
I’m hopeful I’ll see Alabama again after too long away, that I’ll get to float again in the warm southern waters talking with neighbors and family until the sun slides down in a glorious sunset.
And I’m hopeful I’ll get to see my Lake Michigan in all it’s moods a few times too, maybe even Lake Superior if I’m extra lucky.
I hope I’ll be able to roam further from home too, perhaps even to dark skies in other states. I’ve heard Michigan does not hold a monopoly on the stars.
And I’m hoping I’ll get to share it all with you. And maybe, just maybe if we’re exceptionally lucky, I’ll be able to share it with a new puppy.
But that’s a story that has to wait to be told.
Meanwhile I’ll sit in my chair near the window and watch my birds as they devour their lunch and dream about another, happier, year.
May you all have dreams for 2023, and may the best of those come true.
I’d like to thank all of you who spend time reading my blog, looking at the photos and so often commenting. 2022 has been a challenging year for some of us, and it’s nice to put thoughts out into the blogosphere, as a way of therapy or just to record events.
Thank you for understanding that sometimes I write for all of us, and sometimes I write for me alone. Either way I feel your support and I appreciate it so much.
Have a peaceful or chaotic holiday, whichever you prefer and then let’s all work on making the new year extra special. I’ll be around soon, you can count on more birds, more snow, more parks, more night skies, more walks, more musings, and more adventures. I can hardly wait.
Hugs to everyone.
Change Is Hard 