Easter…

Charlene Hundred Day Diary 2 Comments

Day 61 of 100, northern Jutland, Denmark

…is yellow and green, crumbed fish and cucumbers, daffodils and dewdrops.

We make a family photo at the end, to make up for the one I forgot last year.

Later, slippery wet dirt on the walking trail, we escape indoors ahead of the weather.

Comments 2

  1. Do you think birds dream? Frost wrote a poem entitled “On a Bird Singing in Its Sleep” where he postulated they did. It certainly was not a scientific assertion; Frost is not my favorite poet; and “Bird” is not at all among my favorite of his poems. But, oddly enough, I thought of it immediately when it actually happened Easter Sunday morning at about 4 AM.

    I am not sure what either of us was doing awake at that hour, but a cardinal started and immediately stopped his (had to be a he, no she would ever be so idiotic) distinctive song. Perhaps, like me, he was outing his frustration at unsuccessfully chasing a return to sleep since 3 or was just old and silly about holding his tongue. I thought Frost had just made it up. For over 60 years I’ve lived mostly in places where Springtime windows are often open and birdsong always present and never before have I heard such a thing. Three hours later, when the grey bottoms of the night clouds began edging toward pink, all I could hear was cardinals singing. I am very fond of the lilting, burbling phrases of robins’ voices, but heard none. Maybe it was a mere seeming, after the earlier episode perhaps all I listened for was cardinals.

    My Easter photo offering was not daffodils, but a fully opened magnolia blossom in a shaft of very warm early sun. I’m not sure how this is a “comment” per se, but at least it’s not the usual “pablum” either. Worse yet, I’ve gone back to your Spaces post and left another of my little “haiku-like” poems that I’ve been working at off and on since that post. It’s not quite as good as the other one, but still I kind of like it. I promise I won’t make a habit of it.

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      Birds must dream, though probably not as we understand dreaming.

      I cannot tell one bird’s song from another, but the other day I woke up to a large bird running across the adjoining field, looking so much like a lizard on hind legs that I ran around the house going “Look! A dinosaur!” to anyone who would listen.

      Turned out, it was a pheasant.

      There are no magnolias around here. First, when the frost was serious, snow drops nodding away between the trees. Then road shoulder weeds sprouted little miniature daisies. Then, the trees and daffodils, with daffodils being the only ones I can name.

      Greg, your words are always welcome 🙂

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