One Perfect Saturday, Part 2
Apr. 28th, 2003 02:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanWe went on along the path, into a thicket still unleafed.
"We flushed a bird," breathed Eric. "It went -- what is it -- there -- "
Hopping from branch to branch on the righthand side of the path was a tiny bird, very dapper and smooth and lively. It began making a sound like a small telegraph, tickety-tickety chip-chip tickety, paying us no heed whatsoever.
"I think it's a kinglet," whispered Eric. "Look at the eye-circle." Indeed, it had a white eye-circle, making it look very alert; and a white wing band as well, with some stripes on the wing. Just then it flew to another branch and flashed a red crown at us. "It's a ruby-crowned kinglet!" exulted Eric, still very quietly.
We had seen a yellow-crowned one in my back yard last year, but this was our first ruby-crowned one. I suppose real birders might laugh at us, but we were so excited. We took one another's hands from time to time to express this. The kinglet, described by Peterson's as "a tiny stub-tailed birdlet," went on moving from branch to branch, ticking and chipping away. Our voices gradually rose to normal levels, since it was utterly oblivous to our presence. Beyond it the occasional dragonfly soared in the sun.
At last it had hopped and ticket far enough along the way we had gone that we continued on our own way. We agreed that if nothing else happened for the rest of the day we were already glad we had come out.
The thin woods were brown and gray and black, with the thinnest mist of green and pale yellow and a patch or two of brilliant red. Eric had pointed out the wooded slope behind the Glenwood Spring Water company's building, which also flaunted a red-misted tree, and asked what it was, but I couldn't tell. From such a distance one could not see if the red were flowers or emerging leaves.
We came to the intersection where one turns left for the garden, accompanied by cardinal song and by chickadees saying "Phoebe, phoebe." As had happened last year, we were lured a short way along the path in the wrong direction, in this case by two bluejays yelling and chasing one another.
We turned up the correct path eventually, admiring the moss and the birdsong. Not far from the back gate to the garden a small marshy area on the left was full of yellow flowers. After looking at the leaves, heart-shaped rather like those of the violet, and considering bloom times, I said they were marsh marigolds, and this was confirmed later by a patch in the garden proper that had a sign to it.
We went into the garden, collecting a couple of pamphlets, and down the short path to the garden's miniature marsh. There were no dragonflies over the water, and no water birds, and no mosquitoes, either. The evergreens were inhabited by singing chickadees, and several nuthatches; we heard cardinals, too.
We came back to the main path and began looking for flowers. Aside from an embarrassing moment where I saw a clump of bloodroot with a sign saying "Twinflower" in it and believed it, I recognized all of them. Bloodroot, still half wrapped in its cloaking leaves with their fantastic fractal edges. False rue anemone, waving on thin stems to remind you that the "false" did not apply to their status as windflowers. White trout lily in its spotted leaves. We would keep seeing just one white trout lily and then realizing that the whole sunny slope we had been gazing at was covered with them. The spotty trouty leaves are easy to see, but the flowers managed to hide.
Eric pointed out a yellow trout lily, very startling amongst so much green and white and brown.
The last time I typed this entry I lost it, so I'm stopping while I'm safe.
Pamela
"We flushed a bird," breathed Eric. "It went -- what is it -- there -- "
Hopping from branch to branch on the righthand side of the path was a tiny bird, very dapper and smooth and lively. It began making a sound like a small telegraph, tickety-tickety chip-chip tickety, paying us no heed whatsoever.
"I think it's a kinglet," whispered Eric. "Look at the eye-circle." Indeed, it had a white eye-circle, making it look very alert; and a white wing band as well, with some stripes on the wing. Just then it flew to another branch and flashed a red crown at us. "It's a ruby-crowned kinglet!" exulted Eric, still very quietly.
We had seen a yellow-crowned one in my back yard last year, but this was our first ruby-crowned one. I suppose real birders might laugh at us, but we were so excited. We took one another's hands from time to time to express this. The kinglet, described by Peterson's as "a tiny stub-tailed birdlet," went on moving from branch to branch, ticking and chipping away. Our voices gradually rose to normal levels, since it was utterly oblivous to our presence. Beyond it the occasional dragonfly soared in the sun.
At last it had hopped and ticket far enough along the way we had gone that we continued on our own way. We agreed that if nothing else happened for the rest of the day we were already glad we had come out.
The thin woods were brown and gray and black, with the thinnest mist of green and pale yellow and a patch or two of brilliant red. Eric had pointed out the wooded slope behind the Glenwood Spring Water company's building, which also flaunted a red-misted tree, and asked what it was, but I couldn't tell. From such a distance one could not see if the red were flowers or emerging leaves.
We came to the intersection where one turns left for the garden, accompanied by cardinal song and by chickadees saying "Phoebe, phoebe." As had happened last year, we were lured a short way along the path in the wrong direction, in this case by two bluejays yelling and chasing one another.
We turned up the correct path eventually, admiring the moss and the birdsong. Not far from the back gate to the garden a small marshy area on the left was full of yellow flowers. After looking at the leaves, heart-shaped rather like those of the violet, and considering bloom times, I said they were marsh marigolds, and this was confirmed later by a patch in the garden proper that had a sign to it.
We went into the garden, collecting a couple of pamphlets, and down the short path to the garden's miniature marsh. There were no dragonflies over the water, and no water birds, and no mosquitoes, either. The evergreens were inhabited by singing chickadees, and several nuthatches; we heard cardinals, too.
We came back to the main path and began looking for flowers. Aside from an embarrassing moment where I saw a clump of bloodroot with a sign saying "Twinflower" in it and believed it, I recognized all of them. Bloodroot, still half wrapped in its cloaking leaves with their fantastic fractal edges. False rue anemone, waving on thin stems to remind you that the "false" did not apply to their status as windflowers. White trout lily in its spotted leaves. We would keep seeing just one white trout lily and then realizing that the whole sunny slope we had been gazing at was covered with them. The spotty trouty leaves are easy to see, but the flowers managed to hide.
Eric pointed out a yellow trout lily, very startling amongst so much green and white and brown.
The last time I typed this entry I lost it, so I'm stopping while I'm safe.
Pamela
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no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 03:21 pm (UTC)And now I'm going to rant. Publishers are horrible. I have three more people I need to make read "Tam Lin", and only one of them lives in my city. Which means the other two are NOT getting a hold of my copy.
I've been looking online for used copies. There is a person out there charging ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE DOLLARS for a hardcover, an old library copy with everything that goes with it (card pocket, bar code, stamps, withdraw stamps, the lot). It's insane! The paperbacks tend to go for more than ten dollars when they're damaged!
Isn't there anyone who will reprint this one too???
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 07:02 pm (UTC)Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 10:01 pm (UTC)worth a try
Date: 2003-04-29 01:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 06:00 pm (UTC)Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 09:56 pm (UTC)K.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-29 01:38 pm (UTC)Pamela
I feel very brash for commenting
Date: 2003-04-30 02:25 am (UTC)But I had to say I'm very impressed (and happy) that you rewrote that entire entry after losing it once. I never have the patience to do that :)
Re: I feel very brash for commenting
Date: 2003-05-01 04:39 pm (UTC)I've also had enough experience with losing text, rewriting it, and then finding the original that I know my instinct that says, "It'll never be as good the second time" is false, false, false.
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-04-30 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 04:41 pm (UTC)Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-05-01 04:58 pm (UTC)