Despite the recurring frost warnings that might argue against it, spring is coming right along in southeast Michigan. The cherry crop further north may even have a good year, although the final word isn’t yet in after the bad freeze on the last day of April. So, as usual at this time of year, we’re smack in the middle of cherry-worrying season.
If the status of the cherries is still iffy, however, the status of leaves is not. Last week, leaves were appearing in shy little clumps. In shadow, the maple trees in the back yard looked like Dr. Seuss creations. Cloud-like shadow puffs perched on the end of shadow branches. This week, the maple shadows have moved from the whimsical stage to providing serious shade.
Birds have gotten on with hatching babies, some more conspicuously than others. Robins, for instance, choose secluded spots for their nests. Unless you have a nest in your rosebush or on your porch, you may not see the babies. I glimpsed some this week, in a nest up a utility pole along Nixon Road. All you could see of them was gaping beaks and stretching necks.
Another way you know about robins’ nests is by the parents’ frantic level of endeavor. On a nonstop basis, they locate worms under the grass, pull them out, and fly off with them to feed the babies. This frequently involves a circuitous route, with a stop or two on the way home to make sure no predators are watching. Stopping may also give the harried parents a chance to catch their breath for a moment.
They’re discreet with nest upkeep, too, dropping the shells of hatched eggs somewhere other than right below the nest. It’s a treat to discover the eggshells here and there as you walk along: robin’s egg blue is a wonderful color. Other birds tidy their nests by scattering egg fragments as well, of course, and it’s fun to match the fragment to the species. But nothing beats robin’s egg blue.
The first goslings are out and about. I saw some that were so new that they were still yellow–yellow and amorphous among the reeds at the edge of a pond. I saw their darting movements and mistook them for mammals of some kind, or possibly tribbles. Then I noticed the parent geese keeping watch from the edge of the pond and realized what they must actually be. Goslings can swim almost from the get-go, but maybe this group hadn’t ventured into the water yet and the parents were trying to entice them.
I saw grey goslings this morning. Only two of them so far, swimming between vigilant parents. The adults were eyeing Rascal and me and pumping their heads up and down, letting us know they were onto us. Woe betide us if we so much as thought about threatening the babies. Google claims Canada geese purr when content. I’ve never been close enough to happy wild geese to hear them do it. And the domestic geese on my friend Judy’s farm spent their time chasing Judy’s Dalmatians. There was no purring involved.
We heard a whole range of evocative sounds at last night’s performance of the Washtenaw Community Concert Band. The theme of the concert was change, but it could just as well have been called yearning. The program included a piece commemorating Gandhi’s Salt March, another on school shooting violence, a medley from Les Miserables, “Joe Hill,” and “Wade in the Water.” A high school French hornist offered relief in the second movement of Gliere concerto, but we went home feeling like God was indeed going to trouble the water.
Tuesday was a book signing, reading, and general celebration for my friend Daryl Hafter’s new book of poetry, Second Sight. Daryl’s a retired academic who has had books published before, but this is her first book of poetry. She’s always game for something new. Not having had a bat mitzvah when she was a kid, she had one a couple years ago. Best bat mitzvah talk ever, bar none. She was eighty-something at the time. Now she’s closing in on ninety. And she can still swim across Base Line Lake.
After the book signing and cake, Daryl and I had lunch with two other people. Who turned out to be friends from long ago, when Daughter Number Four was in elementary school. Their son and our daughter were close friends when we all lived near each other. It was a delight to renew old friendships and share them with Daryl. If I were a goose, you would have heard me purr.
9 May 2025
Lovely piece, Nancy.