RIP Phenomenal Woman

 

I have just learned of the death of Dr. Maya Angelou, and I grieve.  It was some of her poetry and writing that inspired me to want to be a writer. She was the voice of women everywhere in addressing violence against women and overcoming hardship. I remember an interview done with her once where she talked about how she wrote every day.  She rented a hotel room by the month...in it, a typewriter and her writing materials.  She said she treated her writing as a job...as a privilege.  How thankful I am that she had such a strong voice, set such an example as a strong woman. RIP, Marguerite.  Your earthly journey has ended, but your voice will never be silenced.

Phenomenal Woman
by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.           
 

Rains of Winter

 

Every valley drinks,
Every dell and hollow;
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks,
Green of Spring will follow.

 

From "Winter Rain"

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Antique Glass Insulators

  

Photo by Patrick Conn, PCONN, Flickr, "Around the House."



 My grandfather was a collector.  He collected everything from old tobacco cutters, to antique scales, to toy metal cars to coal company script.  One of his favorite things to collect was antique glass insulators.  A few years ago, my grandmother took me out to her old barn, showed me an old crate full of glass insulators, and told me they had belonged to my Grandfather...and now I could have them.  My "Granddaddy" was adored by my brother and me, so to inherit anything that had been important to him was a thrill for me.  They were dirty and heavy, but I somehow managed to heave the crate and its contents to my old car.  I still have all these old insulators, and every time I see them, they bring a smile to my face.  I have no idea WHAT to do with them, but they make me smile nonetheless. 

Photo by Julie Green, DestinyCaptured, Flickr

My husband has encouraged me to get rid of them.  I don't think I could do that.  These pieces of glass are a part of history.  Some glass insulators were made as early as the 1850's and used for telegraph lines.  Later, they were used for telephone and power lines.  Imagine all the communications that have passed by these little treasures!  If only THEY could talk!

Boston in the 1860's in front of Old State House.  Notice over the tops of the buildings all the old insulators!

Memphis, Tennessee, 1907, Union Depot. Wow...look at all the poles and all those insulators!

Louisville, Kentucky, 1906, Corner of Fourth and Main.  Here's a nice closeup of a pole with insulators...many, many insulators!

Hemingray Advertisement, 1926

In an attempt to find a creative way to display my antique glass insulators, I discovered on the internet an absolutely WONDERFUL idea!  Pendant lights made from glass insulators!  Below is a photograph of those listed on Remodelista.com.  Aren't they FABULOUS?  Now I won't rest until I can find someone who can turn my Granddaddy's old insulator collection into pendent lights for our house.

I am looking for other interesting things to do with these little pieces of glass.  If anyone has any ideas, I would truly appreciate you sharing them here.  I would love to find creative and wonderful ways of displaying these sentimental collectibles.

Emeralds in the Sky

A booming train derailed the silent night

The fallen poles in skins of moss unroll

A trains conductor pounding rails in-flight

Around the glass, and through the wires control

The rare conductors weren't common names

Those colored jewels, emeralds in the sky

Atop the threaded perch, flamboyant flames

Where mustard yeller insulators spy

A million miles of wire across this land

Converting sounds from golden amber girls

To ears of purple ponies on demand

With pleated skirts a dancing dancer whirls

The hemingrays beside the lost zicme

Between the poles a catenaries sag

Our saddened faces watch a crosses plea

In piles of poles and crosses, raise the flag

Memories wonder through our minds of glass

Our crystal balls of color now amass

In homes of those who wonder why, and as

Memories never fading from our eyes

Our minds release the emeralds to the skies.

~Wesley Willis, 2007

Happy end-of-July,



The Merriest of Christmases

This year will be a very special Christmas for us, as it will be our son's first Christmas.  He is fascinated with the ornaments and lights of the Christmas trees.  My husband and I are having a wonderful time watching his curiosity with all the decor...and we have never been happier. 

It is a wonderful thing to remember what it is like to see the splendor and beauty of Christmas through the eyes of a child. 

Photo copyright Terri Fortney Photography, 2010

Baby's First Christmas

You have to hold him up to see

The angel on the Christmas tree.

And even though he's still too small

To know the meaning of it all

You watch his eyes reflect the glow

Of colored lights that come and go

And feel him quiver with delight

At every new and wondrous sight.

There's Santa with his jolly face

Beaming from the fireplace.

And from the stocking hanging there

Peeks a cuddly teddy bear.

Bright ornaments and candy canes --

Musical toy and wooden trains --

There's just no end to the delights

Spread out for him this night of nights!

He points and grins from ear to ear

And then he yawns - his bedtime's near!

Dad gives him a kiss and you tuck him away

To rest up for the fun of his first Christmas Day!

~Alice E. Chase

Oh, so happy, happy, happy,

Welcome, December...

Through bare trees
I can see all the rickety lean-tos
and sheds, and the outhouse
with the half-moon on the door,
once modestly covered in
summer's greenery.

Through bare trees
I can watch the hawk
perched on a distant branch,
black silhouetted wings
shaking feathers and snow,
and so can its prey.

Through bare trees
I can be winter's innocence,
unashamed needfulness,
the thin and reaching limbs
of a beggar, longing to touch
but the hem of the sun.
~ Lisa Lindsey, Bare Trees

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grady
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so ryly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.
      ~Robert Frost

September

The breezes taste

of apple peel.

The air is full

of smells to feel -

ripe fruit, old footballs,

burning brush,
new books, erasers,
chalk and such.
The bee, his hive,
well-honeyed hum,
and Mother cuts
Chrisanthemums.
Late plates washed clean
with suds, the days
are polished with
a morning haze.
        `John Updike, September

Summer Shower

A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.

A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!

The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.

The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.

Summer Shower by Emily Dickinson

We have waited all summer for a good rain. It had been weeks when, unexpectedly, a sunny day turned dark and the skies opened up and blessed us with a late afternoon shower that was overdue by at least two months. What a luxury rain has become this summer! And what a blessing to finally get a reprieve from the unrelenting sun. Although the rain was brief and we wish it could have visited longer, we were thankful for what little we received! I was so happy to see it, I nearly took to yard in my bare feet just to wade in those glorious puddles! If it had not been for the baby sleeping inside and no one to watch after him, I may have flung open the door, ran outside, tilted my face to the sky and laughed like a mad woman! Oh, when this sweet boy gets a little older, what fun we will have in the rain!

 

The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in His heaven -

All's right with the world!

     ~Robert Browning

 

It has been a while since I posted, and I have missed it dearly.  We have been busy with yard sales and baby preparations and reclaiming our house after the remodel.  We have also been busy in our yard and garden.  Time certainly flies when one has one thousand things to do!

 

This year, instead of planting herbs and vegetables in a separate space, I have mixed them in among my flowers.  They are alongside the house in the flowerbeds and in the large ornamental spaces in front of the house.  That area receives the best sunlight, and all other places have failed to produce...so I decided to give this a try. Of course, I only grow peppers and tomatoes, along with the basic herbs: onion chives, basil, oregano, fern leaf dill, sage, rosemary, thyme, and parsley.  I am seeing this more and more in landscapes.  I would love to hear from others who mix their herbs and veggies in with their ornamental flowers.  We are thoroughly enjoying the warmer weather and our time out of doors.  Soon, the weather will turn so hot that we will avoid the midday in the garden, so we are enjoying it now while we may.  We currently have irises blooming, as well as our beautiful clematis vines...so full of blooms that you couldn't count them all!  One of the prettiest irises I have this year is a gorgeous peach color.  We are anxiously awaiting our new blooms courtesy of the landscaping project we completed back in the fall:  cone flowers, dianthus, black-eyed susans, and more showy blooms.

 

 

April is a promise that May is bound to keep. ~Hal Borland

Happy gardening and flowering!

Meeting the Easter Bunny

On Easter morn at early dawn

before the cocks were crowing

I met a bob-tail bunnykin

and asked where he was going.

"'Tis in the house and out the house

a-tipsy, tipsy-toeing,

Tis round the house

and 'bout the house a-lightly I am going."

"But what is that of every hue

you carry in your basket?"

"Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue;

I wonder why you ask it.

"Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs

and eggs of red and gray,

for every child in every house

on bonny Easter day.

He perked his ears

and winked his eye and twitched his little nose;

He shook his tail -- what tail he had --

and stood up on his toes.

I must be gone before the sun;

the east is growing gray;

Tis almost time for bells to chime."

--So he hippety-hopped away.

Meeting the Easter Bunny

by Rowena Bennett

All of a sudden...

Open the windows and open the door

And let the fresh breezes blow in, blow in.

Jack Frost has gone to his home in the north

And all of a sudden it's Spring!

~Author Unknown~

In Praise of Winter Trees*

A closed heart can't greet

a winter sky. Even a rain puddle

is filled by it, and a horse trough,

and the slow current of creeks.

Winter trees, sycamore and oak,

reach for the sky to offer praise –

stark, hard praise, born from all

those rooted years of bearing

the sky's weight. Some nights

an open heart is filled with vast

spaces between stars the mind

can't grasp. The thought of heaven

is not so much mammothed by

the sky's grandeur, but mystified

beyond our silly notions. Winter

trees aren't arrogant; they praise

no flags, no denominations,

they owe allegiance to the soil.

My sister, when she was younger,

awoke in winter to hold her arms

up to the sky, shiver in the wholeness

of it, let shadows of winter trees

dance sunlight across her face.

Oak, beech, sycamore, maple, and gum,

reenact creation, drop their seeds

from the sky, make their homes

in star dust, and reach back

toward heaven. Trees suffer

drought and freezing rain, accept

the annual tilt toward shorter days.

Some ancient hope, like winter light,

is allied with the gravity of stars.

*Excerpted from Late Winter by Bill Brown, published by Iris Press. Bill Brown is a part-time lecturer at Vanderbilt University. He has written four poetry collections, three chapbooks and a textbook. The recipient of many awards and fellowships, Brown lives in Robertson County, Tennessee.

I have always found beauty in the starkness of winter. Something about the winter light and proud trees with their entangled branches against a gray winter sky speaks to my heart. The pure white of a fallen snow with its shadows of violet and muted silver, flashes of diamonds in the rays of a winter sun. Asleep. At rest. Peaceful and waiting.

Hoping you're enjoying the beauty of Winter, wherever you may be...

Thou Winter Wind

Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art no seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto thy green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Painting by Thomas Kinkade

Stay warm!

Here Comes the Rain

Just when I believe we may see a break in the rain and snow, here it comes again! While I admit to love the snow...and even the rain when it comes in moderation, day after day without my winter sunshine can sometimes make me rather melancholy. Is it any wonder that the simple nursery rhyme keeps running through my mind today?

Rain, Rain, go away;

Come again another day.

And upon thinking of this rhyme, I began to wonder how many other cute rhymes and poems exist about the rain and how....well...downright TIRED of it we are?! How are these?

Rain, rain, pour down,

But not a drop on our town.

Rain on the green grass,

and rain on the tree,

and rain on the housetop,

but not on me!

Rain, rain go away,

Come again on washing day.

Rain, rain go to Germany,

And remain there permanently.

Rain rain go away,

Come on (insert old sweetheart's name here) wedding day.

Rain on Monday,

Sunshine next Sunday.

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,

Rain is falling down,

Splash!

If all the raindrops

were lemondrops and gumdrops,

Oh, what a rain that would be!

Just as a note of interest, the history of the lyrics to "Rain, rain go away" are said to date back to the reign of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603), one of the English Tudor monarchs. During this period of English history, there was a constant rivalry between Spain and England culminating in the launch of the Spanish Armada in 1588. The Spanish Armada was led by Duke of Medina Sedonia, and the fleet numbered over 130 ships. The English fleet, under the Admiral Lord Howard, totalled 34 small Navy vessels and 163 armed merchant ships. But the great Spanish Armada was defeated. Only 65 Spanish galleons and just 10,000 men returned to Spain. The attempt failed, not only because of the swift nature of the smaller English ships, but also by the stormy weather which scattered the Armada fleet. Hence, the origin of the nursery rhyme:

Rain, rain go away,

Come again another day.

Little Johnny wants to play.

Rain, rain go to Spain,

Never show your face again!

May your rainy days be tolerable! ;-)

Snow Day

When men were all asleep the snow came flying,
In large white flakes falling on the city brown,
Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,
Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;
Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;
Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:
Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;
Hiding difference, making unevenness even,
Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.
All night it fell, and when full inches seven
It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,
The clouds blew off from a high frosty heaven;
And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness
Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:
The eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;
The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;
No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,
And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.
Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,
They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze
Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;
Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;
Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!
"O look at the trees!" they cried, "O look at the trees!"
With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,
Following along the white deserted way,
A country company long dispersed asunder:
When now already the sun, in pale display
Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below
His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.
For now doors open, and war is waged on the snow;
And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,
Tread along brown paths, as toward their toil they go;
But even for them awhile no cares encumber
Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,
The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber
At the sign of the beauty that greets them,
for the charm they have broken.

London Snow

by Robert Bridges, 1844-1930

English

Hoping you have a happy snow day,

Today, the rain and cold are penetrating my soul. I feel sad. The drops of rain falling outside my window echo the tears in my heart, and it feels as though the heavens themselves are mournful. I heard from an old friend this morning that his father is dying and only has a couple of days left. The family has gathered, and now they wait. There is no joy for them during this Christmas season. I grieve for them and for their loss. What a difficult time to lose someone you love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

~The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Welcome, November

My November Guest

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain

Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;

She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:

She's glad the birds are gone away,

She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,

The beauties she so truly sees,

She thinks I have no eye for these,

And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow,

But it were vain to tell her so,

And they are better for her praise.

~Robert Frost

A Moment's Perfection

PeoniesThis morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

from New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver

My love for flowers has been with me since I was a child. I distinctly remember visiting my great-grandmother who, at the time, had what seemed to be a huge green yard snuggled between the mountains of Southeastern Kentucky. What I remember most about the yard was the abundance of flowers, daisies, roses and tiger lilies, one of my personal favorites. I remember one of my older cousins telling me, "Did you KNOW that if you put flowers in the freezer, they last FOREVER?" I was amazed at this valuable information, so when my great grandmother wasn't looking, I slipped out to the yard and cut all the blooms off of every flower. I went outside with a pair of scissors and a basket and filled the basket to the brim with colorful blooms. Then, I quietly climbed the steps to the back porch, opened the lid to the huge deep-freezer, and poured all the blooms inside on top of frozen foods. Once they were inside the freezer, I remember arranging them in just a way that would allow me to see each and every type of bloom.

It must have been some time the next day before my great-grandmother noticed the blooms in the freezer, but I remember vividly her calling my name and asking me "why in the world" I had cut all her flowers! I am sure I explained to her my desire to save all the blooms forever. I think she probably showed a great deal of patience with me that day, for what I remember is that she explained that if I wanted to save flowers, I should wrap them in a piece of plastic before putting them into the freezer...but most importantly, I should only cut ONE of each type of flower.

My other grandmother had peonies in her yard, and I thought those were the most amazing flowers I had ever seen. I marveled at the full and perfect blooms in pinks and whites, and grieved for them when, after such a short time, those perfect blooms died away. When I bought my first home, I was fortunate enough to inherit a 60 year old garden filled with peonies! Truth be told, I think it was those flowers that made me realize that house was meant to be mine.

This past weekend, I visited my now 93 year old grandmother, and her yard still is full of peonies. During one of our conversations, she reminded me now was the time to transplant them, and if I wanted to take some to my home in Tennessee, I was welcome to dig up a couple of hers. Out I went in the pouring rain with a shovel and my poor husband to dig up those precious treasures. Dear Husband kept reminding me how little room we had in the car for the ride home, but I had to find a way to fit them inside. I explained to him how I have loved these flowers since I was old enough to walk, and he somehow found enough room for them.

Today, I transplanted the peonies, and I can hardly wait to see the first blooms! I know that after transplanting, the plants may not flower for a couple of years...but I am hopeful. Something transplanted with so much love will surely put on a great show.

Here Comes the Sun

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,

and I say it's all right It's all right

Music and Lyrics by George Harrison,

From the Beatles' album "Abbey Road," 1969

The last couple of days have been gorgeous! It's so nice to get a taste of spring weather early in the season...a little sampling of what is soon to come. My sweet husband and I took our dogs to the park yesterday, and they had a wonderful time playing in the warm sunshine and making new friends. There were many people out enjoying the weather, children were on the playground, some teenagers were playing a pickup game of basketball at the nearby courts, and a couple of young adults were playing Frisbee. People were out walking their dogs and just enjoying the warmer weather. It was heaven!

Max is so excited to be out in open space where he can run and play! He follows Michael everywhere!

Molly's favorite toy is a good tennis ball to run after! She also likes a good Frisbee and tried to steal one from some of the people playing in the park. Thankfully, she wasn't successful.

"Yum, yum, yum, I love this toy!"

Taking a break from playing catch.

Molly follows Michael up the steps of the slide.

But she backs out at the last minute, so only Max is brave enough to slide down...in Michael's arms (otherwise, he may still be up there!).

What a happy family! And you may be wondering where I am. Well, I was staying behind the camera since I hadn't bothered to put on any makeup.

Here you see why I was staying behind the camera! This is our self-portrait on the swings. Michael took it, so half my face is cut off!

Molly and Max were so excited when some of the children came over to make friends!

Looks like Molly is ready to play a little more catch!

Max and his two new pals.

Look at those two run! Wow, are they having fun with new friends!

With Molly, it's all about the toys.

And here's the result of a long afternoon of play. Both puppies and children are tuckered out!

...and Molly and Max had a very good night's sleep.

Robin Redbreast in Winter

The fireside for the cricket,
The wheat-stack for the mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house.
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow,
—Alas! in winter dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.

From the poem, Robin Redbreast
By William Allingham

I saw a Robin the other day. He seemed so out of place in the snow flurries, and I was suddenly worried about him! I wanted to offer him some warmth and silently tried to will him to take advantage of the bird house hanging on the nearby tree, currently unoccupied. I'm sure he has his own nest somewhere, but I don't recalling seeing a Robin in such cold temperatures before! I'm ashamed to say I have no idea their migratory habits...I just always looked for them in the Spring and was excited when I saw the first one of the season. Perhaps someone can enlighten me. I've only lived in south central Tennessee for three years, so it may be that Robins hang around in this area in the colder months. Anyway, he didn't seem to mind the cold as much as I did!

I've always loved to keep bird feeders in our yard, but since I've moved here, we've adopted two indoor-outdoor cats who would love nothing more than to catch a bird or two. I can't be an accomplice to that kind of crime. It breaks my heart! Instead, I try to tell the birds to fly away to the highest branches, far out of reach of Isabella and Hermione. Isabella is becoming a little lazier in her middle ages, so perhaps she will decide it's too much trouble to catch birds!

My mother-in-law purchased us a house for Purple Martins, and I can't wait to put it up! Since they are seldom on the ground, I'm fairly confident they'll be safe from our resident bird patrol.

Have a wonderful day!