I spend a
lot of my time in one room of my home which I have named Connieann’s Corner
although it is a room with four corners, and my name is Connie, not Connieann.
Connieann’s Corner is also the name I chose for my blog on Google’s Blogger
website. How Connieann came about was from a spelling error on my original
Social Security card. Someone forgot the space, and so these millions of years
later, on my blog, I revitalized Connieann.
The room I
refer to as Connieann’s Corner is actually the third bedroom of my three
bedroom home.
It is filled with drawing and painting supplies, art in progress, books of all genres, my computer, and most important of all, a comfortable chair and a window with a view of the outside world. I sit in front of that window now. My Chromebook rests atop my drafting/drawing table and fights for my attention with birds, plants, neighborly walkers and even a squirrel. By raising my gaze I can report on the weather, the traffic and the time of day. In this stay-at-home time this window is a direct link to my sanity.
It is filled with drawing and painting supplies, art in progress, books of all genres, my computer, and most important of all, a comfortable chair and a window with a view of the outside world. I sit in front of that window now. My Chromebook rests atop my drafting/drawing table and fights for my attention with birds, plants, neighborly walkers and even a squirrel. By raising my gaze I can report on the weather, the traffic and the time of day. In this stay-at-home time this window is a direct link to my sanity.
In the
morning I enter Connieann’s Corner carrying my breakfast bowl of oatmeal topped
with yogurt, strawberries, blueberries and a few walnuts or pecans. As I twist
open the blind, it is not unusual to see cardinals, chickadees, wrens, sparrows,
finches, jays and even a mourning dove eating from the feeder or drinking or
splashing in the birdbath. Since the squirrel is a recent guest (I say that
word loosely), he may be hanging upside down from the porch post with his nose
in the feeder as well.
The feeder and bath, a turquoise dish in a jute sling, hang from porch beams. Both are so familiar to the birds that they sit in the bushes nearby as I clean and refill. The squirrel backs up a few feet but remains in sight as though questioning my authority.
The feeder and bath, a turquoise dish in a jute sling, hang from porch beams. Both are so familiar to the birds that they sit in the bushes nearby as I clean and refill. The squirrel backs up a few feet but remains in sight as though questioning my authority.
About three
feet in front of my window is a six foot loropetalum bush which routinely
blooms with tiny pink flowers attracting bees and butterflies. Closer to my
window but still hanging from a porch beam is a red glass hummingbird feeder. I
have seen many different hummies drinking and sitting on the homemade hangar.
If I should go out onto the porch while they are feeding, they confront me with
their buzzing noise and reluctantly fly a short distance away until I retreat
back inside and they can resume drinking their sugary water cocktail.
On the
ground directly under the window in the right angle made by the join of the
porch to the house is a concrete birdbath. The roof valley above naturally
keeps the bath filled with rainwater and no doubt is one of the reasons the
squirrel and other wildlife find my porch so attractive.
When the
weather is cool enough, I open the window and can better enjoy the birdsong
chorus and squirrel chattering and hummie buzzing. Mopsy, my cat, loved to sit
on the inside sill of the open window and stare down the lizards that traversed
the porch rail. She made that little clacking noise in her throat and the
anoles red-throated balloons would expand as they came on guard. She never
seemed interested in the birds, somehow knowing they were beyond her reach. And
the birds never minded her, hardly glancing her way. The squirrel came calling
after her passing.
The most
unwelcome visitor I ever saw was a lengthy black racer.
One morning when I
opened the blind, he was slithering up the porch post headed for the feeder. I
am sure I gasped at the sight of him. He hung around for quite some time,
basking in the sunshine, waiting for a meal, but when no birds appeared,
eventually he slithered away, back to where he came from. Another unlikely
sight was a hawk that swooped past my window, gliding under the porch and on to
his unknown destination. I am sure I gasped that time, too. And I have seen
numerous egret and ibis families strutting around the front yard with their
long legs and curved necks possibly pretending to walk their kids to school.
Recently,
turtles have been a popular sight with a street crossing directly in front of
my house. Several cars have slowed with some stopping for the driver to exit
and deliver the turtle to safety in my front yard. I read online that it was
best to let them continue on their journey as they do not roam far from home.
I am
grateful for the wildlife that parades in front of my window, and I try not to
miss anything, but of course I do. It saddens me that it is possible and even
likely that sometime in the future, there may be a silent spring as Rachel
Carson predicted. I hope we will have leaders that fight for laws that protect
all wildlife so that my grandchildren and their grandchildren will know the joy
of watching a cardinal spray a sunlit fountain of tiny water droplets into a
clear blue sky. For now, this is something Covid-19 has not changed.
2 comments:
My computer desk faces my sliding glass doors. One day when I was writing, a hummingbird flew up to the glass and sideways back and forth, looking in at me. He got my attention, all right. I went out to check the feeders, and both were empty. Those little guys are smarter than we give them credit for.
That is so very true. When the birds start squawking instead of singing, they want food.
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