The Beautiful Day

Today is a beautiful day. In Minnesota, you feel guilty for staying inside on such a beautiful day (even if you’re sick, you at least try to sit in the sun). And here I am, sitting inside writing, feeling guilty. Mind you, I’ve spent much of the day outside. I’ve been for two bike rides, done some gardening (such as it is here in April), spent some time birding at the river, and also did a little birding in the yard.

I think the first bike ride was the highlight of the day. I didn’t get out on my new bicycle much last year, and I’m bound to make up for it this year. While riding up the river road biking path, I saw a very large bird swooping low—vulture or eagle? I lost the one that swooped, but when I glanced up, I saw what was clearly a turkey vulture soaring, soon joined by the other. I was pleased, as I’ve already seen an eagle this year, and the vulture was new to my year list.

After biking at a brisk pace for a distance not quite far enough to make my legs rubbery, we stopped and rested and chatted for a bit. Before long I found myself distracted by the birds I saw flitting through the trees, and try as I might I couldn’t focus on conversation. So I decided to go to the river later and do a bit of birding (I didn’t have my binoculars with me on the bike ride—why do I ever go anywhere without binoculars in spring?)

After our equally brisk ride back, I rested for a bit, but the beautiful day and the call of the birds lured me out before long. I rode down to the river, picked a spot, sat down, and waited for the birds to reappear after the disturbance of my arrival. Sure enough, after about 20 minutes, birds started coming around. Not a lot of them—it was mid-afternoon, not the best time for birding. Still and yet, I saw my first yellow-rumped warbler of the year, as well as an eastern phoebe. Also a northern flicker, ruby-crowned kinglet, and I heard a red-bellied woodpecker laughing. Slowly floating down the river was a group of northern shovelers.

Earlier today, I was outside at the cactus, uncovering it (again—after I had to recover it mid last week for our winter storm). I could almost feel it stretching towards the sun. I got the bulk of it done, and hope to finish the rest yet tonight (it stays light until after 8 p.m. now!). I also uncovered (again) the rhubarb, which is much further along than it was five days ago when I covered it back up. Rhubarb bread is around the corner (with cinnamon and nuts—yum).

I’ve had a few spring migrants in the backyard. For the last 10 days, I’ve had three fox sparrows, which have totally captivated me. They’ve been here pretty much all day for those 10 days, and I’ve been quite diligent about putting out fresh water and seed of various sorts (and also graham crackers). This is a particularly important time to feed birds, as often their common sources of foods (insects, buds, seeds) haven’t arrived yet or are sparse.

Several days ago, as I was watching the fox sparrows under the dogwoods, spouse came up, pointed out the window and asked, “What’s that?” to a bird that was about three feet away from my nose. A beautiful male purple finch! I’m glad I saw him then, because I haven’t seen him since. I have house finches quite often, but the purple finch is rare in my yard.

Robins are plentiful this spring, but I’m still awaiting the return of the house wren.

Do you think if I unplug the heated birdbath, winter will return?

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Books: Not Just for Reading

I love playing with books, especially around the monthly reading themes. Usually I start thinking about next month’s book theme in the middle of this month. A friend once castigated me for that—not living in the moment enough, as it were. Pigsfoot. I have always been a big fan of anticipation, and I don’t see a thing wrong with it.

Plus, in this particular case, it allows me to play with my books in pursuit of a goal (a nice stack of interesting books to choose from for next month’s theme). It’s purely fun, and has the advantage of helping me get reacquainted with my books (which can also help in the culling process).

This is not an either/or thing. I can enjoy the monthly reading theme and also anticipate the upcoming theme. Really, it’s like winning twice: I enjoy picking and anticipating the books, and then I enjoy reading them (though not all of them, because I always select more than I can read, because it’s nice to have a lot to choose from).

Any time of the year is good for playing with books, but this last winter has especially lent itself to book play. Days inside due to the polar vortex; days inside due to snowstorms; days inside due to ice.

I got a little cabin fever and started culling my books. And while this may sound more like work than fun, think of it this way: Book culling involves handling, looking at, and sorting books; reading book jackets, paging through books, and occasionally taking trips down memory lane. A great way to spend a snowy (or rainy) day.

I’ve only gotten through three shelves so far (but that’s more than half a bookcase!) and have had to stop because the stacks are taking over the Blue Room. (Note: There were already stacks of books on the Blue Room floor; but now it has gotten to a point where there is only a wide path for walking.)

The next step is to sort the books. The cream of the crop go to an independent that buys books, and the rest get bagged up for Half Price Books (HPB). This is the dangerous time, when back-sliding occurs. (Or, more charitably, it gives me an opportunity to change my mind if I have been a little too hasty, or if I was in a particularly strong cleansing mood when I did the culling.) I don’t usually uncull many books, but knowing there is this pause ahead may make me a bit bolder in the initial culling. And I have already pulled back several books (mostly nature—why did I think I wouldn’t want to read this Cape Cod book? Acquainted With the Night, going through it hour by hour—why would I get rid of that? You see….) But probably not more than 2 or 3 out of every 50 culled. It’s a good check and balance system that works for me.

Bringing books to the store and getting cash or credit is also fun. The independents always pay much better than HPB, but they are few and far between (although I have found a new one that is particularly keen on poetry, and soon I will try branching out into other areas—nature, history, and books by local authors—things in line with the spirit of the store). But HPB takes everything, including books with underlining (I underline in some of my books—mostly books I think I’m going to keep and then sometimes it turns out I don’t want to keep them after all; underlining helps me process a book at a deeper level).

So the cream of the crop goes to the independents, and the bulk goes to Half Price Books. We have a HPB near our house and this is our new system (now that we have about 12 bags of books, and still stacks to go): two bags of books in the car at all times. Any time we drive by HPB and there’s room in the parking lot (and we have time), we bring in the two bags. When we get home, two more bags go into the car. With luck, six bags are gone within a week.

A final enjoyment: coming home and looking at the bookshelves no longer double stacked, and room on the shelf for more. Having room for new books is nice for a change (we haven’t quit buying books, after all!).

Writing this has made me realize that the memoir shelf is ready to cull. And there’s now enough room in the Blue Room for a few more stacks. Hmm. Maybe I’ll go down and just start with a smallish pile of memoirs….