Granddaddy's Pussy Willow

Granddaddy Tatlock had a pussy willow tree in his back yard. Unlike the newer strains his never got too tall and branched out ever so nicely. You could reach and gather to your heart's content. I was little and loved those soft catkins that grew up and down the entire branch. I rubbed them just as I would a kitten. No, my willows didn't come from Granddaddy although knowing how easy they are to root I wish they had. I do have offspring of his Fairy roses. But I do have several pussy willows and I still love the soft little catkins.

Aunt Lina's Grape Hyacinths

Aunt Lina had a huge old holly tree that had branches low to the ground. It was a lovely sheltered, shady spot in which I yearned to establish a "playhouse". However, the prickly dried holly leaves were vicious and I got wounded every time I attempted such a venture. The Most tempting aspect was the carpet of Grape Hyacinths that popped up every Spring. Mother and I both wanted to dig some for our "heirloom" garden but those darn holly leaves were a great deterrent! We did manage, with many piercings of holly, to get a few and mine still come up--not nearly as prolific as Auntie's but the sight of them bring her back to me in a second.

Signs of Spring coming--the Cedar Waxwings and the Goldfinches

I had never seen a Cedar Waxwing before until several years ago. Well, in bird books but not up close and personal. They came suddenly and covered a dogwood tree that was covered with red berries. They have masks and look like gray/brown cardinals masquerading as The Lone Ranger. In just minutes they lifted off and the tree was completely empty of berries. They then landed on the Holly tree, also covered in berries. Same thing. Amazing. This year they have settled in my Chinaberry tree and I appreciate it because those little dickens sprout up everywhere. Maybe I will have a few less to pull up and/or transplant for friends.
The Goldfinches come through early, they haven't even changed color completely. They are still army drab, it will be a bit before they turn that indescribable brilliant yellow. Still they brighten my day.
                                                         

and the bluebirds arrive!

There are few sights that give me as much pleasure, such a thrill, as bluebirds. I remember seeing them as a child while visiting relatives and we were tracking down an old family tombstone in a beautiful, secluded country cemetery. A flock had landed upon one of the huge monuments and, yes, when they flew they did indeed, as Thoreau said look like a piece of sky lifting off. I was mesmerized. Later as an adult I was determined to have them live here. I read about them and put up the regulation bluebird homes. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. They didn't come the first year. They didn't come the second year. But the third year I was leaning on the fence looking out over the property and there was an old apple tree right in my view. I caught a glimpse of blue in the branches. I looked closer and be still my heart! Perched on an old half rotten branch right in front of me was that fairy tale blue with russet breast! They come back every year now and I always have meal worms on hand for extra treats. They are like a prayer to me, a blessing from above.

My Bluebird poem----

Under a canopy of green, the feather pillows in the sky
There's a little bit of heaven--it's where the bluebirds fly.
There's quite a lot of mystery to this bluebird, he and she
Are they creatures of angelic means
Sent to grant serenity?
Are they messengers from Heaven?
Do they fly back to the throne
and give our Host their earthly news?
On all these thoughts I'm torn
between the spiritual, the logical,
the magical yet there's more
to these little birds of blue
than just coincidence, I'm sure.
I think they were sent for a reason.
I think they were sent for me.
I think they were sent to show me
and surely make me see
that this life on earth is such a blessing
and there's so much more to be
than merely just existing
in God's great menagerie.