seasons turn

[fufaraw]

We had a bit of snow last week, but we've been under a deluge for days, now. It's so dark outside we've got all the lamps on, as well as the fireplace dvd on infinite loop. I had tummy megrims over the weekend so OH made chicken rice soup from scratch, which suited admirably. And when it was all gone, we finished up the batch of vegebarleybeef he'd made earlier--our friend  took a quart of it home, and made three meals of it, she let us know. It is a pretty perfect food, but the "sickie" chicken soup is a miracle cure.

 

I'm kind of coasting through the rain on the memory of the day before Christmas eve when we went out for a drive. Aimless, we headed down toward Camano Island, and as we passed the "fishing tree," on the bend of the Skagit River where migrant bald eagles perch to watch for fish, we counted "four, seven, nine, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!" eagles in the tree. Then, we passed the farm where a tree held a big nest for the first few years we were here. I don't know if the weather got it,  or the human residents tore it down, but as we drove by, a pair of eagles perched in the old tree--speculating on rebuilding? Who knows? We came over the humped bridge onto Fir Island, and the field on the left was full of family groups of swans feeding on the grass. Driving along between the sheep farm and the horse farm, before we got to the winter-shuttered "Snow Goose Produce" farm stand, in the distance we saw a dense white swirl in the air--the snow geese are here early this year!

 

It never fails to thrill me watching the flock rise as one entity, lifting and shifting in the air, swirling like a shoal of schooling fish, separating into discrete flocks before recoalescing into a giant mass and then separating again, some to alight where they'd risen, others to fly short distances away to settle on newer grazing land. The calls of the birds are raucous and constant--the world's loudest and most confusing cocktail party.

 

And always, the shoulder of the road nearest where the largest flock settles is lined with parked cars, their passengers walking with cameras in their hands, huge lenses focused on one segment or another of the flock.

We'd come out without a camera--even our simple little point and shoot, or the DSLR. But OH pulled out his phone and did the best he could. And after a half hour of watching and listening, we pulled off and drove on, taking an alternate, less often used route home, enjoying the sunshine and the company.

 

So, hearing the constant beat of rain on the windows and watching the street run like a river, that day shines pretty bright.

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Comments

[stir-of-echoes.livejournal.com]

WOW! What wonderful pictures, I bet that was something remarkable to see :)

[aerynsun5.livejournal.com]

These are from your phone? They are gorgeous!

[fufaraw]

It was a hat trick, with the swans and the eagles, and then the geese. It always makes my heart soar to see the geese, though. It's such a phenomenon to me, every year.

[fufaraw]

Well, OH's phone. And then some editing by me. Thanks! You should go--maybe they're still around!

[stir-of-echoes.livejournal.com]

I am terrified of geese, especially when we visit the park with the little ones. I'm worse than the kids when they surround us looking for food.