orioles

Of Roots and Wings, Poetry and Birds

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My friend Jeannine Atkins  surprised me with a beautiful book just recently: The Poet’s Guide to the Birds.

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We share an affinity for winged creatures, Jeannine and I. We swoon over beautiful writing.

Jeannine pens gorgeous stories-in-verse. Borrowed Names, for instance, is at once accessible and relatable. But truth be told, I’m as flinchy about most poetic forms as this hooded oriole is camera shy.

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He allows me to take his picture through the sliding glass door. And I approach poetry sideways.  I pore over the words, one at a time, search line breaks and punctuation marks for the keys to understanding.

It’s a subtle nudge, this book, in that the subject matter keeps bringing me back to the page. I’m learning to find my song within even the most obscure lyrics, to feel the pulse of this poetry in a way that resonates most with me.

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Just yesterday, this hooded oriole posed for a long while on our backyard feeder. I watched it intently. Such a standout, with that glossy beak and sunshine-y feathers! You’d never guess its shyness, given those bold, bright colors.

Coincidentally, I’d just finished reading Patricia Kirkpatrick’s “Orioles,” a short poem about an ancient garden from which an orange and black tulip yearns to escape its rooted existence. As you might’ve surmised, the tulip takes wing and returns as an oriole.

The color orange suggests a Baltimore oriole, but I understood this creation story anyway. And as synchronicity would have it, the poem forged an even deeper connection to my friend Jeannine, for whom tulips are a favorite flower.

Roots and wings. Gardens and floral arrangements. This is how I’m grounding myself in poetry these days.

Friday Five: Sentimental Journey

I catch glimpses of my Nana's sensibilities (and sentimentalities) in myself, more and more every day. How so, you ask? I offer you five examples:

1. A couple of days ago, this pair of mallards landed in our yard. I'm not sure what they were looking for–the closest water source is my neighbor's pool (although there's a stream bed a few blocks away). Anyway, after strolling through my new rose bed, they ambled across the road. 

Along came an SUV, barreling toward both ducks. I flapped my arms and shouted, "Ducks! Watch out!" The driver screeched to a stop. He slouched in his seat, likely at the thought of the narrowly-averted tragedy. Or maybe he was frightened by the wild-eyed woman who waved him down?  I swan, I just about had a heart attack myself, right then and there.The ducks? They kept right on waddling, utterly nonplussed…

2. The yard into which the ducks shuffled next belonged to my dearly departed neighbor. Jan's front yard's a shambles now, but it used to be a caliope of roses, hibiscus, and gardenias–the pride and joy of the entire neighborhood. She tended her flowers every morning and evening…until she couldn't any longer. The house sold quickly, and the new owners just moved in. A young couple, really nice. But because they have a toddler, they plan to remove all the landscaping out front…sooner than later, as finances permit. 

We understand their reasoning, but the entire neighborhood has once again fallen into grief. We loved Jan's flowers as much as she did, and are anguished to think that her beloved rose beds–her legacy–will disappear without a trace. So when our new neighbors offered me as many roses as I wanted to take, I seized the opportunity.

I struggled mightily with the larger ones, but the thorns were too sharp, the roots too stubborn. Still, I managed to dig up three mid-sized bushes all by myself, and transplanted them into a flower bed in my backyard. I'm wishing on imaginary dandelion puffs now, like Nana taught me long ago. I'm so hoping that they'll make it!!

3. Good news: our orioles are back! And you know what that means, right? TIme to buy some more grape jelly! Nana would've loved to watch them flit from tree to tree. Knowing her, she'd probably sneak an extra pinch of sugar into the nectar while it's cooking…


I took this photo last year. I'll try for a better shot this spring/summer.

4. I'm reading WRITING PAST DARK: Envy, Fear, Distractions, and Other Dilemmas in the Writer's Life. (I wish I could remember who it was that mentioned this wonderful book on their blog, so I could thank them properly!) Bonnie Friedman's an amazing writer, and though I'm reluctant to single out any one chapter, I confess to tearing up while reading, "Your Mother's Passions, Your Sister's Woes: Writing About the Living." Just like my Nana, Ms. Friedman illustrates Truth With story. I love that kind of writing, don't you?

5. One by one, my longtime LiveJournal friends are leaving for greener pastures. I mourn the loss of everyone who leaves us, feel sad when their moving trucks rumble down the street. Nothing is permanent, but LJ felt less transient than most blog platforms…until it didn't. And if I weren't so attached to this place, if I weren't so reluctant to learn all I need to make the shift myself, I'd probably be digging up my own rosebeds about now. But I can't bring myself to do that–not yet, anyway.

Instead, I cling tight to my belief that, despite any temporary transplant shock, the friendships we've cultivated here will survive–and thrive. Here I am again, blowing dandelion wishes into the wind. But as my Nana used to say, "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride." So I'm also thinking about what I might do to help smooth these transitions.  The odds are better, I've found, when I choose action over chance.

Thankful Thursday: A grab bag of gratitude

1) I’m feeling especially accomplished today, because at long last (cue the tambourines and sound the trumpets!),  I’ve tamed the stacks o’ clutter that nearly swallowed my office whole. I’d insert an After shot, but in my zeal, I somehow managed to disconnect the camera’s charging base from the computer. Maybe after my tech-savvy husband reconnects it? I’m also excited to showing you what I did with my vintage window frame, and to post the Big Reveal of my antique church bulletin display box.

2) James Harriot once wrote, "There’s no better judge of comfort than a cat."  ‘Tis true, as this picture attests. Toby is actively inquisitive, but he’s especially adept at sprawling. He’s made himself at home in every nook and cranny of our house, and for all the joy and and coziness he’s added, I am grateful.

3) I’m thankful also for the beautiful orioles at our backyard feeder. Did you know they’re attracted to nectar, grape jelly, and the color orange? I didn’t, but I managed to lure them into our backyard with a tangerine-colored feeder topped with jelly trays. (Thanks, Wild Birds Unlimited, for selling me on the idea dispensing such wonderful advice!) I deeply regret that this photograph doesn’t do the oriole’s plumage justice–in reality, it’s brilliant yellow and glossy black (like this). I’m still learning how to operate the SLR camera in different light conditions, so let’s just appreciate his silhouette, shall we? 

4) But I’m especially thrilled that one of my sisters is coming down from Portland for a brief vacation, and she’s bringing one of her daughters with her. It’s been just over a year since we last saw her –too long! — and while I don’t want to wish the day away, I can’t wait for their plane to arrive this evening.