This morning as I’ve been fixing the big dinner I’ve been watching my birds out the window and my Penny-girl napping inside and feeling grateful that I’m in my warm house looking out at a windy cold yard. It’s 32F here (0 C) and it feels, because of the wind, like 19F (-7.22C).
Nom, nom, nom.
I know the birds watch me as I fill the feeders every morning. Every day, before I’m back in the house they’re usually fluttering around picking at their favorite spot. This morning I somehow missed the goldfinch feeder and as I was walking to the shower later I noticed a big bunch of them all huddled around the very bottom of their feeder.
That’s all the seed there was left, just a bit at the very bottom.
I thought about going out and filling it after my shower. But they were hungry now. So I ran out without a coat and hurridely filled their feeder with thistle. Then I went inside to watch. No finches. I waited some more. One finch dropped down onto the beech tree, contemplated the feeder swaying in the wind.
“Come on little guy,” I murmered, “it’s right there for you, all fresh and nice.” He waivered and clung to his branch. “Come on sweetie, I whispered.” He tentatively flew to the top of the hook and looked around. Then he hopped down to the feeder and began to greedly eat. Suddenly finches came from all over, and swarmed the feeder.
I smiled.
Happy Thanksgiving little ones. Happy Thanksgiving.
And happy Thanksgiving to all of you. We hope you have a wonderful, warm and belly-filling day. Penny added that last bit about the belly. She has her priorities.
You probably saw on the news that there was a very large solar event this week. Tuesday night was supposed to be stunning, with the kind of aurora lights we saw a couple years ago. Of course Tuesday night I was in band and when I got home our skies were cloud covered.
I went to bed disappointed.
In the beginning there was just the faint pink and green.
Wednesday night the weather folks and those forecasting the aurora said it wouldn’t be as spectacular as Tuesday had been, but we had a good chance of seeing the lights. And this time the skies over my head were mostly clear!
And then a pillar showed up.
The aurora last night was fickle. I watched the numbers, and went outside numerous times, once it was dark, to check using my phone to take sample images, thinking maybe, just maybe there was a bit of a pink tinge to the northern sky.
The lights faded. Maybe that was it?
Eventually the numbers got better and I dragged my camera, tripod and a chair out to my backyard. I had considered driving somewhere that would provide me a clearer view of the horizon, but lots of stuff kept me home.
But almost right away another pillar of light sprang up.
I figured if I saw it, I saw it and if I didn’t, well, I’d see a lot of images online in the morning.
And then more pillars with more intense color.
Sitting in my own backyard took a lot of the stress out of finding a place with a clear view, worrying about other people, cars with headlights, or huffing deer.
The color began to dance.
It was actually pretty comfortable, even relaxing, out there. So comfortable I didn’t spend enough time focusing on the stars, so they’re not the pinpricks they’re supposed to be. And of course the trees, that were quite close to me, are out of focus. You can’t focus on both the stars and the trees!
Imagine what it looks like from that plane.
But the color, oh the color, was wonderful … if only for a few minutes. I think I spent 30 or 40 minutes out there before the color faded and the clouds blew in around 10 p.m. This morning I read that the lights came back out later in the night, but I was long asleep by then.
And then the light began to fade again.
I don’t have the most wonderous images. I didn’t have a view of the horizon so I couldn’t see much of the green dome below the red lights. My stars aren’t in focus. There’s no great foreground.
Clouds overtake the last of the pink light.
But for almost an hour I sat in the comfort of my yard, staring at the sky and smiling. If I hadn’t taken even one image I’d still have been happy that I went out into the night searching for Lady Aurora.
TIme to hang it up.
I hope some or all of you got a glimpse too. If not….squint at these images and imagine being out under the stars. I’m willing to share.
Using my phone, handheld.
One of the cool things about an event like this is that I know so many people are out there staring up at the sky too. We’re all looking at the same big sky, and for one or two nights the rest of the crazy world falls away. I never feel alone when I’m out under the stars and I usually don’t even feel the cold until I’m back inside. It’s an amazing experience.
Another phone shot testing the skies. It was there!
All these images are pretty much the way they came out of the camera (or phone). I cropped a few, tried to clean up the fuzziness of a couple others. But mostly they’re the way they looked in the camera. You couldn’t see any of this with your naked eye.
If you ever get the opportunity, go out and watch the aurora. Take your phone or camera with you, it probably will be the only way you’ll see it. But it’s worth the adventure.
I was collecting seeds from my zinnias this week, cutting spent heads, tossing them into a paper bag to dry. Slowly processing the loss of summer. Preparing for our long winter.
And then a bit of light, there at my feet, caught my eye.
The nasturium leaves, round and beautiful on their own even before the orange and yellow blossoms peek out, were glowing in the last of the day’s sun.
I stood still and thought how much I wanted to hold onto this moment, this bit of sunlight, these bright colors. How I wanted time to slow down even as, for me, it’s moving faster and faster.
I stood there watching the light on the leaves and blossoms for a few moments and then I did what every photographer does. I ran to the house for a camera.
And that’s why I take so many photographs. It’s to slow time, to help remember the thoughts and feelings of a specific moment. So that later on, when winter is getting old and we haven’t seen the sun in days, I can look at this image and remember the heat on my shoulders and the warmth in my soul.
When I see the first junco my heart drops but it also fills. Which seems a thought at odds with itself, doesn’t it?
Dark eyed juncos are only here for the winter months. And they are the first harbingers of winter, so my heart drops. But they are also adorable little round birds, and they will hop around under the feeders all winter, delighting us with their antics. So my heart fills that they’ve chosen my yard again.
No matter that the red winged blackbirds, the sign of spring and summer, are still here eating me out of house and black oiler seed before their trips south. No matter that we had temps approaching 75 degrees F yesterday (23.33 C) and will most likely again today.
Winter is on the way. Proof, a junco arrived today. Time to get out the winter coats, find the snow shovel, and check the antifreeze in the cars.
Welcome Mr. (or Ms.) Junco. I’m glad to see you again, but did you have to arrive so early?
PS: The pictures aren’t in focus. I was a long way away, and this little one popped up on the driveway, almost blending in with the asphalt. Still, I can’t fool myself into thinking it’s a sparrow. Can you?
Mom gave me permission to write on her blog this time. She says she wasn’t even going to bring this up. And she doesn’t want to talk about it. So now it’s up to me.
You see mom and I have been working really, really hard on obedience. At first I tried my darndest to get her to be more obedient, but that wasn’t working, so I decided maybe I could get more treats if I tried to be more obedient myself.
A girl can grow intellectually even when she’s already full grown physically.
So anyway, mom and I have been practicing in my basement training room and out at a friend’s training barn. I like training a lot. When mom starts chopping up cheese I get all excited and run to the top of the basement stairs, ready to run down to my cheese training room as soon as mom turns the lights on down there.
Then mom and I went to a ‘fun’ run on Sunday, to see if what I am learning would translate to an obedience trial setting. Mom was pretty sure we’d do OK, maybe not perfect, but definitely OK.
Mom was wrong.
I didn’t like the noisy place with all the other dogs and when it was my turn I wanted to run somewhere safe, and I forgot how to heel and I certainly didn’t remember I was supposed to sit when mom stopped. Mom, for her part couldn’t read the signs right and was flustered with my inattention and tripped over her own feet.
And when it came to my recall, when I get to run to mom (I love running to mom) I decided it was safer if I just made myself as small as possible and sat very still. Very very still. On my behind. Not moving.
Even when mom moved closer and offered me cheese.
Mom says she was very discouraged and also worried about me because I was so scared and she felt bad for putting me into a scary situation.
But then!
The next day she took me to the groomer! What was she thinking. After that I got really mad at her and barked at her all the way home.
And then!
We went to my Rally class in my regular building last night and in between running rally courses mom took me to a back room and we heeled enthusiastically and I sat when she stopped and I did three different recalls almost perfectly.
So mom thinks I’m OK and not scared anymore. Which is good because the real obedience trial is this coming Saturday.
Mom says it’s very possible we will still NQ (Not qualify) but she says that’s OK as long as I’m not scared and get used to working in different places. She says this is not a sprint. She says it’s a marathon. I don’t even know what that means.
I’d like to remind mom that I’m still a puppy. (I’m going to milk that concept as long as possible!) And that I love her and daddy and I want to be a good girl. Sometimes I just need more time.
SO… please think about mom and me on Saturday afternoon!
PS: Pictures are stuff mom took of not me in my yard. Silly mom. I’m still the prettiest thing around.
Change Is Hard 