From our treehouse

...to you, says the bag containing the seedling. Compliments of SaskPower Shand Greenhouse.


H got the seedling at the town office. Today he'll follow the planting instructions on the back. After he's done, I just might pin the bag up on my bulletin board so I can keep the final step in mind:

6. Maintain a weed-free environment for at least three years until established.

Now that's good advice. Will do.

Bear with me

.

The Mystic Lake Road Corridor

...is the focus of my attention these days. It's also the title of a suite of poems that I'll be presenting at an event in June.


We were back out there today. The forest was all wind and wood frogs. Endless snow geese overhead. Mostly I just sat there. Looking around. Thinking things over. But I did take a few pics. While doing so I poked H in the arm with a stick.


I didn't mean to. But that's nothing compared to the wonky horizon in the following 15 seconds.


I don't know how I managed that.

Ahead of the snow

...snow buntings. Flocks of them have been in town for a good week or so. That's unusual for here.



Today a flock visited our yard. They're still here. They don't seem in a hurry to go anywhere.



And they're thirsty things.



Drink while you can, little buntings. By morning the bird bath will be iced over and full of snow. But I think they know that.

*
May 20

If I were an island

.

Frame grabbing: the art

...of drawing great photography from video. A friend posted this link on Facebook yesterday. So I've been thinking about Cartier-Bresson’s famous decisive moment. About technology. The possibilities. The speed at which things are moving along.

And this morning...



Yep, another little video. And another. This one is of the bird feeder in the front yard, which is currently overrun with white-crowned and Harris's sparrows.



There's a reason for these videos. Just as Leeson says in the article, I seek a beginning, middle and end. Now to grab a frame. See if there's a moment that can hold its own.

Get a grip

...might be what this chickadee is saying.


Get a grip. This is how it's done.

*
Ok. I think I misunderstood. Here's what was waiting right around the corner.


I hope spring is like this hawk. As you can see, it was a windy, snowy day here. But we were not alone. I thought it would be a good day for reading, but no. Not so far. So far I've just been watching it blow. But the wind has gone down. So we'll see what happens.

On the edge

...yet blending in. Birds do this so well.




This American Tree Sparrow was one of dozens in the yard today. I watched them for quite some time. After all, migration happens quickly and they're just passing through.




So a short while ago I decided to take a few pics to mark the occasion. To capture the blending. To keep a bit of its beauty to myself. I was in the kitchen, carefully poking the lens out the window, being as quiet as possible. But the zoom makes noise. I know this. I know better.




Sure enough, the bird looked straight at me. And sure enough, soon after it left.

My mumblings, for now, are brief

...ephemeral videos in my sidebar. To your left. Beneath my word. They will come and go. Maybe evolve. Who knows.

*
The Saskatoon Writers Coop is now offering a one-on-one coaching program for writers. The fees vary.

*
Brainy Betty doesn't surprise me one bit.

*
I could mumble on about the periodical cicada's wonky cycle or the venomous spider found in a shipment of bananas. But not right now. Right now I'm going to go watch the snow melt. And the birds scratch. And listen. There's lots of singing going on. It's that time.

This morning in 43 seconds

.

Rhubarb is murmurous

...background noise,




an indistinct conversation.




A low-level flight for opportune strafing.




A heated dispute, a row.




Nonsense,




worthless stuff.




So says the OED.




In my world it's all true.