Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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Last but not least

We were cold and tired. Our feet hurt, my back ached, but we were happy, knowing that we had each gotten several really good images of our favorite birds. It was time to drive home.

It was a cold and very windy day.

We each climbed into our respective cars for the trip out of the park. But there was one more place we needed to check out before we left. Because, on our drive into the park we’d both, separately, noticed a single swan sitting in a blue pool of open water in the frozen river. It was a stunning scene, but neither of us had pulled over.

When we climbed out of our cars at the Nature Center the first thing we said to each other was “Did you see that swan?” I offered to drive back there right then but she said, “No, we’ll stop on our way out.”

Neither of us really thought that swan would still be there on our way out. If we’ve learned anything doing outdoor photography it’s that if you see it shoot it. Nothing ever looks exactly the same again.

But we let the swan idea go and headed back into the woods in search of the birds you’ve seen in my previous two posts. In fact I sort of forgot all about that swan, I was having such a good time with the little birds.

A couple nearby.

But when we packed up the car for the return trip we decided if the swan was still there we’d stop. And wonder of wonder, when we drove across the bridge above the river there were dozens of swans!

Obviously we pulled over and climbed out of the car, forgetting our cold toes and fingers.

I loved all the footprints.

Standing out in the open, up on a bridge, as the wind blew and our fingers turned to ice we kept shooting until we had half again as many photos as we had already taken!

There were lots of swans, but I was most interested in the three that were near me, just below the bridge I was standing on.

There was the single, beautiful swan directly below us as well as the couple off to the side. It was like a photo shoot with beautiful models. As they moved, turning their heads and posing, we kept shooting.

Neither of us wanted to leave, it was so beautiful. In fact at one point I got back in the car. After all, how many pictures of a swan does any one photographer need? And then the wind picked up and the feathers on our swan blew in the wind.

And I had to get back out and keep shooting. Of course, wouldn’t you?

I swear, if you live close to this park in Southeast Michigan I’m surprised you’re not already in your car heading over there.

In fact, just say the word, I’ll meet you.


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And finally –the little birds

It’s been three weeks since I last visited Kensington, my favorite park, feeding and taking pictures of the birds.

Those of you new here probably don’t know about Kensington, where the wild birds freely come down to outstretched hands for treats.

Chickadee

Most people seeing this for the first time think it’s odd and wonderful, all at the same time. Which of course it is.

Male junco

Feeding the birds is one of my favorite things to do in the whole world and if I lived closer I’m sure I’d be there every day. There are some lucky people who are able to do that. I think some of the birds probably recognize them as regulars.

Curious titmouse

I see some people walking the trails for exercise, but the majority of people are there to experience a bird landing on their hand, or to photograph birds. Or both.

It’s been so long now since I took these pictures that I can’t remember the stories that go with them. So mostly I won’t narrate the birds’ thoughts. Suffice it to say that they’re mostly all about the food.

“Do you have treats over there?”

Mostly I was trying to get images of birds moving, they’re so beautiful in flight. But often I had the camera focused on my hand, waiting for the birds to land, and their wingspans turned out to be just outside the focus area. Lesson learned.

Still, you can see how complicated bird wings are, and how beautiful.

As photographers we were so lucky that day — the sun came out, so even though it was very cold and windy we got some beautiful light.

Mourning dove

We spent a good two hours standing next to a small tree that seemed to be the launching ground for little (and some not so little) birds to buzz over to our hands.

Female red belly woodpecker

We didn’t have to go look for the birds, they heard (through the grape vine?) about us and zoomed right over.

Chickadee underside

But eventually the sun lowered and the chill intensified. The handwarmers I put in my boots were now cold and so were my toes.

Showing off her red belly

It was time to go home, but we didn’t want to leave our little friends. They were still busy coming and going.

Coming and going

They weren’t giving up on us…how could we give up on them?

Male downy woodpecker

But they had eaten a lot, their bellies should be full. And in the morning a whole new bunch of people would be on the trails, hands outstretched filled with oilers and peanuts and suet balls.

Where you going, ladies?

Breakfast will be served.

Oh…on a previous post I said that we saw something beautiful on the way out of the park…but this post is already way too long. So I guess you’ll have to wait just a little bit longer.

Are you sure my breakfast will be here early tomorrow?

I promise it’s worth the wait.


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When the music stopped

I don’t remember when I started playing with the local community band. And when I joined I certainly didn’t expect to still be playing years (maybe more than15 years!) later or how lucky I’d be to form a friendship with the band’s music director.

But it was easy, she was a clarinet player as well as a band director in the public schools. We were similar ages, and had lots of the same interests. She gave me tickets to the Detroit Symphony, took me and others to the Detroit Institute of Art to see the Van Gogh show, invited me over to play with her beloved kitties, made meals for my husband and me when we got Covid the first time.

She gave of herself in ways too numerous to mention. As she did with so many others.

In recent years Shelley has fought cancer, going to treatments and tests but still coming, every Tuesday night, to rehearse a band that on it’s best days can be a handful. We are something of an island for misfit musicians, all with different sets of skills, different levels of commitment, but each of us 100% lovers of making music. When we get it right it is so right, and when we fail, well, we fail spectacularly.

And still she came, every Tuesday night. Arriving early, she was the last one to leave.

At our October concert, “Three Women and a Podium”

When the cancer struck again it became harder for her. She had moved an hour away to be closer to family and her doctors. The trip back to be with us was sometimes long, sometimes impossible. Still, she persisted. When necessary other dedicated music directors stepped in to give her a break.

But we always knew she’d be back. She wasn’t ready to give up her community band.

The last concert she conducted for us was this past October. By Christmas she didn’t have enough stamina to stand on the podium and keep us in line. I texted her after the Christmas concert, her favorite of each year, and gave her a report. We had done well, had a good crowd, we missed her, Santa said hello. She told me she was grieving the loss and missed us too.

She never came back.

Last week at rehearsal we learned she was in hospice at the family’s home. She was receiving visitors and cards and spending time with her grandchildren. This past Tuesday morning she died, her family surrounding her, and music playing.

Of course it was a Tuesday.

In Michigan’s UP on a 3 day trip, where it rained every single day.

Maybe she knew that we’d need each other, as one by one we heard the news. She knew, of course, that there is no better group of people to be with when you’re mourning your music director than the people with whom you share the music.

And so we went to rehearsal. Those of us that knew had a hard time walking into the building, into the band room, looking at the podium. Even though she hadn’t been physically there since last fall, it was still her podium. Those that hadn’t heard the news yet sat in stunned silence as it was announced.

The room was quiet for a moment and then people started sharing stories and we laughed a bit and teared up a bit. And then we did the best thing we could do for ourselves, and for her.

We made music. For a moment the music had stopped. But only for a moment.

Last week I wrote Shelley a letter, thanking her for being a friend, for her advice, for her musical support, for our travels together, for her generosity, for her time and her care. There are so many stories I could tell you about her, and I am just one of hundreds who have stories of her giving to them and their families.

I ended my letter to her by reminding her of the hundreds of students she had mentored over her 30+ years of teaching music in our public schools. Her legacy will go on forever through those students, many who have made sharing music their careers.

I told her she was the stone tossed into quiet water and the ripples she made are still spreading out into the universe. I told her I didn’t think any of us could have a bigger affect on the world than what she’d done with her talent and her love.

A subset of us, playing a pop-up concert during Covid in her neighborhood.

And I asked her if, after she gets settled and has her celestial band warmed up and in tune, if she might look around for a way to let us know she’s OK. I told her I knew she’d be OK, but it would be nice to know.

I expect to be hit over the head with something fantastically musical any day now. And I bet that first concert up there is going to be amazing.


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What can we do?

I try very hard to not get political here or on any social media. But these last couple of weeks have been overwhelming and I’ve been feeling sad and hopeless. Perhaps you’ve been feeling that way too. Or, perhaps you’re feeling that things are finally moving in the right direction.

Either way, as long as we’re respectful, we have the right to express our feelings.

Me? I’m thoroughly against 99% of what the 47th President is doing. And at this moment I can’t even think of the 1% I might find acceptable. But that’s not the reason for this post.

The reason I’m writing now is not to beat a drum for one side or the other, but to ask you to think about what you can do to help us all keep moving forward. As programs that were designed to catch people falling through the cracks to help meet their food and housing and educational needs are cut off, what can we do, as individuals, to help?

Here’s a link to a news story I saw last night that gave me hope and a bit of inspiration. I thought as I watched her talk about her front yard food pantry….well…I can do that. Maybe you will find her inspirational too.

Nikki Lee isn’t a wealthy woman donating millions of dollars to her favorite cause. She’s simply a good person feeding people the best she can. Maybe some of those people are taking advantage of her generosity, but I bet most of them are just grateful for a bit of help.

It seems to me that if we all contribute to programs already in our communities, or if we start one up that isn’t there yet, we can help each other do more than get through the rough times, we can help each other grow.

My library has a food pantry. I’ll be going to the grocery store today, and while I’m there I’ll be picking up some extra stuff to fill the baskets over there. It’s a start.

I challenge you to look around your community and find the gaps that are growing wider by the day. See what you can do to start building bridges.

And, while you’re doing that, it wouldn’t hurt for you to voice your opinion with your Senators and Congressperson.

Looking out over a changed landscape.

Photos are from Friday afternoon’s snow, taken from various dirty windows with my phone. Unedited, raw, the way life seems to be these days.


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The smash and dash

Ten days ago I took you with me while I searched for the redheaded woodpecker. And as you saw, we found the noisy little guy almost right away! So did we turn around and go home, having achieved our mission?

Hey guys! I’ll fly for a peanut!

Well of course not!

I know I’m out of focus but look at my beautiful, piano key, wings!

I have sooooo much to show you that it’s hard to choose! But I think you’ll enjoy our effort to get a good shot of the park’s smash and dash thieves, the brilliantly hued, but common, blue jays.

Who you calling common?

While other birds joyously drop down to hands filled with special treats, select a morsel and flit back up into the trees to enjoy their snacks, the blue jays stalk park guests, skulking up in higher tree branches, then drop lower to scout out the situation, as they wait for an opportunity.

This girl looks promising, she has whole peanuts, my favorite!

And when they see it, when the timing is just right, they swoop down, slam into the giver’s hand, grab the best treat and spill the rest of the seed on the ground as they dash back up into the trees to enjoy their spoils.

Oops, missed the jay.

The rest of the birds stay out of the way and watch. It’s a kind of entertainment for them, too.

Wow! I think the thief went that-a-way!

Plus they get to gather the leftovers from the ground after the blue jay’s dramatic exit.

We spent a lot of time standing in one place trying to get images of the blue jays coming down for their smash and dash.

Oops, missed again.

Mostly we got shots of the empty hand, or a blue jay behind.

I know my photographer friend has at least one excellent image of the blue jay just before it landed on her daughter’s hand, but my best shot was of him racing away.

He got the peanut and I got him!

We had so much fun trying to capture an image of the jays and watching the other birds. It was cold that day and everybody was hungry. I have lots of images of smaller and more polite birds that would like their stories told too.

We mourning doves get passed over for more exciting birds all the time.

I told them I wasn’t sure if you all were prepared for more bird blogs. After all, when you’ve seen one bird, you’ve seen them all…..right?

Wait! Don’t you want to see me too?

Of course not right!!! Stay tuned. I have lots of beautiful birds, and a special surprise that we found on our way out of the park that afternoon.

Excuse me, excuse me! Those jays aren’t all that!

Coming to a blog near you soon.

I’ll be waiting for you.


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These boots were made for walking

Penny here, writing to you from subzero Michigan.

So apparently my parents don’t get that my breed originated from frigid Shetland Islands in Scotland where the weather is worse than anything they’ve endured. And that shelties, as a breed, love winter. Because when the temperatures here were forecasted to be below 0 F (-17.7 C) mom and dad dug out my sister Katie’s boots.

These are not a fashion statement, mom!

They said if I would please wear the boots on our abbreviated trips out to do my business, they would feel much warmer themselves.

Uh huh.

So yesterday mom started putting boots on my feet, all four of them, every time we went out. I didn’t resist but I certainly don’t help her. By the time she’s got all 4 on me she’s usually sweating.

I guess they don’t look too bad against the snow.

Then she has to get all her own paraphernalia on, sweatshirt and hat and scarf and coat and mittens and boots (only 2 for her). By then I’ve usually decided I don’t really have to go out after all. So I stand still in the foyer and refuse to move.

Yep. Mom loves it.

I think I’ve changed my mind, mom. I’ll stay in for awhile, OK?

Mostly I’m just messing with her. The first three times mom took me out I managed to throw off one boot every trip. But then that naked foot got really cold and I stopped running around and held it up and looked pathetic and she carried me back inside.

Win for the sheltie.

Well, they DO give me an elevated look, I guess.

Today mom has perfected the boot placement and has them on nice and tight and I can’t shake any off, so I decided to dance around out there and find sticks to chew on and play in the snow and not go to the bathroom, cause it was so fun.

Win for the sheltie.

Can I get these off now mom?

Mom does not appear to be having fun. Did I mention the wind-chill is -15 F? That’s -26 C! Mom says she’s leaving the stinking boots on my feet, even inside until I pee when we go out. But she was only kidding. She took them off when I asked nice, and I took a nap.

This boot thing is exhausting.

They say by this afternoon the temperatures will be back in the teens, maybe 14 or so (-10 C) and heck, that’s a heat wave, I can go out to pee without my boots, and I very likely will…cause between you and me?

I gotta go!


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Searching for a redhead

It’s been awhile, a really long while, since I’ve been out to Kensington to feed the birds. A photographer friend and I have been talking about it for what feels forever – – stuff just got in the way. But this week we decided we needed to make it a priority, because the weather around here isn’t going to get any better.

Do you see what I see?

With negative wind-chill predicted for next week we decided to get out there Friday afternoon. And boy we’re glad we did because the sun actually came out while we were there. Yes it was cold, but back among the trees, out of the wind, it was magical.

Maybe if he looks at us he will be more obvious.

There’s a lot of content in the 765 images I took. Seven Hundred, Sixty-Five! That’s crazy! We were only out there maybe 2 hours. OK…maybe 3 hours. That’s 255 images an hour, or about 4 every minute…a picture every 15 seconds? Thank goodness it’s digital!

Anyway.

Well that’s more obvious.

The biggest reason I wanted to be out there with my camera was to find the redheaded woodpecker. Hard to believe that until a couple years ago I had no idea there was such a bird in my area. But then I saw pictures online from Kensington and one winter day I saw him myself!

I think he (or she) might be young. Notice the brown feathers between the eyes. Juvies have brown heads.

Now that I know what part of the park I’m most likely to see him, I steered my small party in that direction. Along the way we ran into a couple of other photographers (recognizable by the extra long, super cool 800mm lenses on their cameras) and spent a long time talking to them about camera bodies, lens length, f-stops, tips for bird photography and… wait for it…while we were standing there, 5 people talking camera stuff, the redheaded woodpecker arrived, with much noise and fanfare.

The black and white feathers on their backs make them very elegant birds.

Now that I’ve heard him I will be able to find him more easily because he makes a noise different than all the other woodpeckers around. He was definitely interested in us, just as I was interested in him.

One of the guys with the big camera lens told us that if we threw a whole peanut up in the air the woodpecker would come off the tree trunk and grab that peanut right out of the air! Since we did, indeed, have a peanut like that, he volunteered to throw it so we could try to get a picture of the bird in flight.

Portrait of a beautiful bird.

I failed miserably, shooting wildly and blindly, but I did get one image of the bird flying, kind of in focus, and I’m proud to have gotten that much!

Well, at least I got SOMETHING! That black thing at the bottom is the photographer’s hat.

We had so much fun and spent almost 2 hours standing in one place a bit further along the trail, at a magical tree that was filled with all sorts of birds. Even the redheaded guy came back around. But that all will have to be saved for another post.

Hey lady! What about the rest of us?

I have lots of editing to do!