When it was so bitter cold and the wind so very fierce, I tossed some birdseed out my back porch door, into a more sheltered corner. Now today it's several degrees above zero and the sun is bright bright bright. Pearl and I watched a group of starlings pecking at the seed remnants, and Pearl was doing that low chattering thing cats do when they see something they'd like to pounce on. I went out with the camera and took this shot of the starlings' tiny tracks. I tried to follow their lead, as you can see, but I just don't have their style.
There haven't been many birds at my feeder today. I call them "foul weather friends" because they only come around for food when it's really nasty out. But that's really the way it should be. They probably can find enough natural food to eat on the mild days, and only need my feeders when they really need to stoke their inner furnaces against a big temperature dip. I topped the feeders up again this afternoon. Well, guys, I said to the empty lilac branches, it's here whenever you want it.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.