In medieval Gaelic and British culture, a bard was a professional story teller, verse-maker, poet, and music composer…
In my woods, I have my very own story teller, a Barred Owl, whose calls I can hear across the valley on a quiet evening.
A night of heavy rains and morning in the hollow was humming. The fog hung in the valley pocket as the sun began to rise over the bluff. Songbirds flitted about the treetops, and as I watched, the Sandhill Cranes flew through, silhouetted by the morning mist, adding the exclamation mark to the scene.
If there has to be a silver lining to our third snowstorm in April, it’s that we see more birds at the feeder and it begets some wonderful creative inspiration. A couple days ago I counted 13 different bird species at the feeder. And because I feel so sorry for all the poor migratory birds, I keep refilling it and attract more. So, i’m pretty sure we’ve fed all the songbirds in the valley now. And one Eastern Cottontail.
As a side note, I put dried cranberries out for the robins and they pretty much flipped me off and dug holes through the strip of snow-free mulch around the house instead. WormsTasteBetter!
Welcome to my world in the woods! This is simply a place where I can put “pen to paper” my creative whims and musings. You can learn more about my inspiration here.
Thanks for stopping by,