Spring is Springing

I Should Know Better

What is that tree frog up to, besides the tree that is. He’s predicting the rain to come but there are no meteorologists in agreement with him. Wait, what? Spring Peepers? What are they doing awake, this time of year and at this time of day. Huh? Am I possibly getting Tree Frogs mixed up with Bull Frogs? Please don’t mention this to the Tree Frog, or to the Bull Frog for that matter, I’m not sure of the level of insult that imparts. Certainly though, they would both agree that things are out of whack.

It is approaching the end of February as I put this down in writing. We could very well still get a freeze or even a snow, however, from what I can see of the beings around me, no one will welcome it at this point. Not the flowers that have already popped out in bloom, not the frogs that are busy courting and wooing, not the humans who are literally basking in the sunshine.

There has been a bit of rain, not to the usual measures. Snow in the mountains, by report, has been a bit pathetic. The ski resorts have been in and out of service or limiting lift operation. The kids are out zipping around on scooters instead of sleds. Will snow even show up? We haven’t had a frost of any measure.

As a result of all this, I have announced: We are living in Los Angeles North. I’m ok with that. I have had a bit of difficulty with the falling barometric whiplash as I pick up the weather changes that are going on all around me. Washington above me and California below me have had more severe weather changes and somehow, I have been experiencing the body changes that come with the shifts as if they are happening right here. That’s OK. I have come to radical acceptance of all this.

I’m hoping to see some radical bird population changes. In the period of time I have lived at this house I have lost many birds in the migration stage. The Cedar Waxwings used to fly through, munching on the snow berries to fuel them on their travels. I haven’t seen one in years. Amanda reported having one in her backyard last week, that’s the real Los Angeles. The Sandhill Cranes used to be noisy travelers passing over the house every year. Now I can spy them all year round on Sauvies Island.

The first several years in Bonny Slope, large groups of Evening Grossbeak would stop by the yard on their migration, then I didn’t see any. Maybe they’ll come back now. The Varied Thrush would come down out of the mountains when the snows covered their feeding grounds, hang around for a while then head out again. There’s no reason for him to head this way if the snow fall in the mountains is so pathetic.

But forget about the whining, I’m ready to adjust to the shift. Maybe I’ll be able to head out early to jump in my favorite swimming holes! I can tuck away those long johns; I’ve hardly pulled them out of the drawer. I’ve already started sliding the window open at night for my snooze. Mr Snaps thinks it’s quite wonderful as he keeps an eye or two on the activities behind the house.

All right people, I’m no fool. As soon as I put this down in writing, I guarantee. I have jinxed the whole thing. Snow will be showing up any minute now. Ok. A snow man it is. I can handle it.

I’ll let you know when it starts to snow. Thanks for stopping by.

Mary E Joyce