Until this morning I had never seen a red-winged blackbird nest.  I knew where they nested.  It’s hard to miss that.  But I had never actually seen a nest.

On Saturday I had trimmed some trees and tossed the trimmings into the trailer.  I didn’t take them down to the brush pile.  The neighbor had cut the area, which I had to cross and I didn’t want to drive across the hay.  He baled it later that day.

This morning I took the brush to the brush pile.  As I was leaving I looked beside the trampled grass and saw a small willow tree and in it a nest.

Red-winged black bird nest surrounded by tall grass

Can you see it in the middle of the shot?  I returned with the camera and watched the mother fly up to the power line where she gave me the stink eye.

Three eggs in the nest.

I wasted no time getting a shot of the nest contents–three large eggs.  Then I beat a hasty retreat to leave mother to her duties.

Internship – Day One

I’m thinking of our granddaughter today.  This is day two of her summer internship.  Only six months to graduation and the BSN degree.

We’re button-popping proud of our gal.  She looks like a twelve-hour shift takes its toll.

I’m just glad I don’t have to do that.

This is a re-post of a story that ran on this bog in March of 2009.  I just wanted to share it with you today.

Last Saturday, was the big day. Sylvia awoke at 4:00 AM in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. The construction project was finished for her. The day at the beach was over. Today, she was going home. It was an early start, but before long the flight for Houston, Texas pushed back from the gate. Her journey had begun.

Chuck didn’t get get up that early. The lazy fellow waited until the sun was up. Then he dressed, went out to the barn and fed the cats. The bird feeder was empty, so he filled it with sunflower seeds. Orange juice in the glass and coffee starting to brew, he went into the office to check for new e-mail. Already there were blog comments to approve.

He kept himself busy the rest of the day. She’s coming home. Try not to think about it too much. (Ha!) Lots to do and keep moving. The game plan was simple get tired. Go to bed early. When she gets home be ready to greet and to talk.

Sylvia’s plane makes its way to Houston. There is a seven hour layover. Not fun! Read. Work sudoku puzzles. Walk. Get a bite to eat. Only a little, the funds are mostly gone. (After eating a modest meal, she has $1.50 left. It had cost more to leave Honduras than she had been told.)

The time drags on. And on. And on. It should be time for boarding the flight to Detroit. Oh no. There is an equipment problem. More than an extra hour drags on before they finally are able to depart. The pilot makes up some of that time by flying a bit faster than normal.

Chuck has kept busy all day, and after a quick surfing trip across the blogosphere, he goes to bed early. Remember, the plan is to be there for Sylvia when she arrives to greet her and to talk with her.

In Detroit Sylvia retrieves her bags and meets the friends that will drive her the two hours to Sunfield where her car is waiting for her. She finds it there and has to scrape frost off the windows. A big change from the 90 degree temps she has just left. It takes Sylvia about 20 minutes to drive from Sunfield past the silent town of Lake Odessa and to her home in the country. It is nearly 3 AM as she quietly enters the house. She walks on tip-toes into the bedroom. It has been a long day. She is tired.

I (Chuck) am sleeping on my side facing the door. I open one eye and say, “Oh, it’s you.” (I can be so clever at that time of day.)

She replies, “Who else would it be?” (Two can play that game.)

I hear her briefly at the bathroom sink and then I feel her lay down on the opposite side of the king-sized bed.

She sighs, “Aaahh . . . This feels good.” Soon she is breathing regularly. Sound asleep.

I start to count her breaths, one, two . . .

The sun came up.

Unrelated to story, but impressive bird

My good friend, Vanilla, has declared this bird week.  I’m glad to see that, because it gives me a reason to relate a teeny-tiny tale.

There was a dead critter behind our barn earlier this week.  I know that, because I could see the vultures circling and descending.  That means only one thing — dead meat.

As I glanced out the window toward the barn, a turkey buzzard sailed right over my head as he glided toward the barn and beyond.  Sitting on his left wing was a small bird, who seemed to be going along for the ride.

With one long stretch I could have reached the camera.  What use?  I would have only missed that transient vision.  Vanilla was able to capture an image of his big yellow bird.  I knew I’d not get such a shot.  So I just enjoyed the view.

I guess life is like that.  Some times it’s better to just enjoy it and not worry about documenting and archiving it.  Or am I wrong?

Crab apple in bloom

One of my favorite [make believe] songs is, When it’s apple blossom time in Michigan, we’ll make a peach of a pair.  I enjoy “singing” the words for Sylvia.  She laughs when I do, and to me there is no sweeter sound in all the world than her laughter.

Conditions have been incredibly good for growing grass this year.  Which probably explains why I was unable to mow the lawn for two weeks.  People were beginning to wonder why there wasn’t a FOR SALE sign in front of our place.  It’s nearly time to mow again.  Please excuse my lack of enthusiasm.

The garden is in and the old folk are tired.  Well, it is almost in.  A few items need to be taken care of, but it will be okay.

Beauty or Beastly?

Warm weather is here.  And I’m enjoying it! :frolic:

Sylvia is working in the flower gardens and I’ve just treated key areas near the house and garage with Critter Ridder.  I’ve been trying to discourage the burrowing bad boys from digging in those places.  I’m hoping this works and that I’m able to seal those places permanently.  Time will tell . . .

1944 — a salute for Dad

By God’s grace, my father returned home in 1945.  Not all did.

Today we remember those paid the ultimate price in service to their nation.

Surprise! Where did this come from?

I went out to “grandma’s garden” to gather some catnip for Nellie.  And I saw this pansy.  I don’t recall it being there before.  Perhaps Sylvia planted it when I wasn’t looking?  Or maybe I just forgot.  That’s probably the more likely case.

The title for this post is taken from a newsletter from missionary friends that are serving in the middle east.  Here is what they said:

Patience isn’t the ability to wait
but the ability to have a good attitude while waiting.

That tiny snippet is an excellent reminder.  At least it is for me.  Once I make a decision, I’m ready to spring into action.  That’s not always the smartest thing to do.  Fortunately, I have Sylvia to help moderate my impulsiveness.

I missed her today when I met with Paul, our financial adviser.  I’m supposed to tell her that he insists she be present at our next meeting.  I got a bit carried away with word games during our conversation.

You’re probably thinking that the next line is, “Violets are blue.”  But guess again.  Don’t they look more purple?  If that so perhaps the poem should go:

Roses are red,
Violets are purple,
Sugar is sweet,
So is maple syruple.

Or maybe we could go more traditional, but with a rearrangement:

Violets are blue,
Roses are red,
Would somebody please,
Plug the hole in my head.

What lines would you write?

I’ve been waiting.  And waiting.  Finally the tulips put forth buds.  The buds refused to open.  Day after day I would look to see if they had opened.  They hadn’t.  They were acting like refuseniks.  Promises made, but carry-through delayed.

Finally, they are open.  It was worth the wait.

Tulip delights in morning sun

I love the addition of reds to the yellow and white of daffodils.  Makes things look more cheery.  (Cherry?)

Nice color combos

Fortunately, not all the tulips are red.  Some are yellow.

Red and yellow tulips and purple myrtle, Oh my

The high temp today could reach into the 80s.  I can stand it.