Queen of the Winterland

Another wet, sloppy, drippy, freezing day. Another worrisome 20 mile drive to work along icy roadways, slippery curves, driving snow and sleet while dodging overconfident motorists in oversized SUVs or overconfident motorists who THINK they are driving oversized SUVs.

In truth, I am fonder of cold air than the humid heat of summer. It would be nice, though, if we could get a balanced mix of both during the year instead of weeks of sultry, mosquito-laden, dead, heavy, breath-sucking heat followed by weeks of wind-ripping, icy, frozen, breath-sucking cold. It would be great to enjoy 10 days of 20 degrees and snowy, and then 8 days of 85 degrees and sunny. Of course, some folks arrange for exactly that, if they can afford the travel and do not mind packing suitcases and keeping their passports current.

If I were Queen of the Land, I would require everyone to stay put on dangerous driving mornings like this one. My subjects would enjoy an extra guilt-free cup of coffee or hot chocolate, compliments of the Crown. They would take advantage of an hour of stolen time to step off this spinning planet and marvel at the honest beauty of the natural world, look out of the window at rainbow prisms of ice in the morning sun and feel the blanket of silence in the middle of a snowstorm, instead of the rattle of plows and the grinding of straining engines.

Ha! That’s impossible; some would argue. As if the economy wasn’t bad enough. But hey; the fantasy of an unexpected day of rest is tempting, isn’t it? I know what I would do with it: Read, write, listen to music, study bird songs for the warblers who are now feeling the faint stirrings of migration. Maybe pull on my boots and go out for a walk without a hat, all the better to clear my head, and then sneak into my own back yard and squish out a few snow angels, just in case a real one needs a place to land.

What would you do on such a day?

The Morning Siskins

"Thistle seed has become too expensive," I told my husband. "Let's just put out the black-oil sunflower seed for the birds this winter." We purchased three 25-lb bags and have kept the feeders full. I sprinkle generous portions on the ground under the deck too, where there is no snow, so the ground-feeding birds have something to scratch for. The heated bird bath is plugged in and scrubbed clean every few days. But the thistle seed was just too much money.
Until I heard the Pine Siskins were in town.
Pine Siskins are small, dark, heavily streaked finches between 4 and 5 inches long, with deeply notched tails and pointed bills. You could almost mistake them for just another LBJ (Little Brown Job) but in the right light and just the right angle, you can see a touch of sulphurous yellow in their wings and at the base of their tails. Like the White-winged Crossbills, they have shown up in NJ because of a failed cone crop in their northern home territory and are searching for their favorite food: thistle seed. And for the cost of going out to dinner, I can keep these guys in food for a couple of weeks....

The Taste of Blue

I am eating a piece of homemade blueberry pie that was baked with local fruit purchased last summer and frozen for this very purpose. A blueberry pie in January is my own winter ritual. But I am not just chewing any old pastry, but folding my tongue around bursting balloons of blue brilliant with the warm rains and velvet nights of summer.

I have a love affair with blueberries. This is what the color blue tastes like; not too sweet, not too tart, a pop of pure honesty, soft bells of the gods heralding the honesty of the tiniest of fruits. There is something so innocent in their eagerness to give themselves up all in one season.

I prefer having pie for a mid-morning snack. You can taste it better at 10 o’clock in the morning when your palette isn’t overloaded with dinner and looking for something to do. I also cut myself an extra large slice, reasoning that since I didn’t have “my” piece the night before after dinner, I could have twice the usual portion size.

Here's an easy recipe:

January Blueberry Pie

Pie Crust (easy!--recipe from Mom):
1 1/3 cups sifted flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/3 cup corn or vegetable oil
3 Tblsp milk
In small bowl, mix flour & salt together. Pour oil in measuring cup, and carefully pour in milk. DO NOT MIX THE MILK AND OIL. Let the milk slip to the bottom.
Make a “well” in the flour mixture, then pour in oil/milk and mix carefully. Roll it out between two sheets of waxed paper (sprinkle some water on the rolling surface so it doesn't slide.) Peel off the top sheet of paper, then pick the dough up with the other and mold into pie plate, then carefully peel paper back. Makes one crust.

For Filling:
4 cups blueberries
2 Tblsp cornstarch
1/4 cup water
2/3 - 1 cup sugar
Mix cornstarch and water, then mix in sugar. Pour over berries. Mix gently and let stand 15 minutes, folding berries occasionally.

Pour berries into crust and top with 5 slices of butter. Put another pie crust on top, brush with milk and poke holes in it so the steam can escape.
Bake at 350 degrees for one hour or until crust is golden.
Enjoy! Cut yourself an extra large slice!

Happy Birthday #1: Oak in the Seed

Not to detract from one of the most auspicious inaugural events in our country’s history (as if I could) but January 20th is the one year anniversary of the birth of this blog, Oak in the Seed. Writing this blog has been a source of pride and healing, wonder and frustration, as well as an amazing journey across the paths of individuals across the universe. Astonishing, really. I have much to be grateful for, all because of blogs and the people who create them:

Thanks to the amazing photographs I have seen from many blogger photographers like Behind the Bins and The Celery Farm and Beyond, I am learning more about this elusive skill. I thank my lucky stars that Blogger tossed up Teachings of the Horse as a possible blog that might interest me, because after settling into Victoria’s stunning writing, I went on to meet Arlene from Grey Horse Matters. These two women are like personal friends, almost as if we have already shared a cup of coffee in their kitchens. Between them and several others, I got a leg-up to where I belong; in a saddle on the back of a horse. I’ve also been swept off my feet of clay with breathtaking sunsets with every Friday’s Skywatch. The poignant and personal stories of my favorite blogs have opened my mind and my heart.

So on my first Blogger Birthday, I want to thank you all for your virtual hand in friendship and warm camaraderie. You have made a difference in my life. I am a better woman for having blogged with you!

I look forward to Year Two and….

• A return to the barn when the weather breaks to pick up my weekly riding lessons. Have yet to buy the hardhat.
• Practice photography with the Canon digital camera purchased last summer. Maybe some day an upgrade to an SLR…?
• Continue having fun blogging, introducing others to the world of blogging, and reading, laughing, weeping while sharing your lives through your blogs.

Thank you!

Cool Cat

When the cottage cheese gets furry and grows legs, it's time to clean out the frig.

Skywatch Friday

I post irregularly to Skywatch Friday. Forgive me. If you would like to see AMAZING photos from around the world, click here. On the other hand, you are also free to lose yourself in a full moon in January in my back yard....

Carrion Priest

Courtesy of padlinlew & Photobucket

There has been some light-hearted consternation about the assignments of “Who is Your Power Bird” to some of us as vultures, while others earned more socially acceptable species such as swans or cardinals or doves. If you manipulate the test by even one question, you can force things your way and feel better about yourself and your world.

But like vultures, I tried taking the long view. While this bird (considered a raptor because of its carnivorous habits) does not sport the chiseled head of an eagle, it has what it needs to survive without the need of our approval or a marketing agent. Since the bird prefers to float over our highways seeking out the dead and dying, you will not witness a Turkey Vulture rip a Downy Woodpecker off your backyard suet feeder. It’s been described as nature’s clean-up crew and its purpose considered low on the list of task nobility. The bird does its work quietly, quickly, efficiently, yet is maligned for its dining habits and lack of lustrous head feathers with not even a hint of a crest. But we rely on its quiet courage to deal with life’s less savory aspects: the vanishing of flattened chipmunks, the disappearance of devastated squirrels, the gradual diminishing of exploded deer carcasses. Without these birds, whose powerful wings are fueled by the dead energy of yesterday’s living, we would be sicker for the rotting dis-ease left behind, and somehow less noble ourselves for watching the long melting of the bones in the sun.

How do I identify with a Turkey Vulture? What can I care for that no one else wants to be bothered with? Who or what has been forgotten, left at the side of the road of life? As I rock on my days from one week to another, who can I spot from afar, suffering from the lashes of stress or loss or illness? How can I help erase the stain of suffering in my little corner of the world? For perhaps the Turkey Vulture is a kind of carrion priest, as it ministers to the bones of forgotten souls so they may once more spring aloft and soar over the gray ridge tops and...home.

If the Turkey Vulture is my Power Bird, then perhaps I have found my calling, or rather, the Turkey Vulture has found it for me.

White-winged Crossbills

This is "find the White-winged Crossbill in the hemlocks" puzzle. It's there, that reddish blob in the center, taken by yours truly by pushing my little camera beyond its limits but I had to try. Check here for a better photo.
This is a medium sized finch of the far north and therefore a RARE bird in New Jersey. It feeds on cones of coniferous trees and must follow successful cone crops from year to year and place to place. Jersey birders have been crawling all over looking for them this winter. Alas, while working on some boring files this afternoon, I checked the Jersey birds emails and lo and behold, a dozen or more were reported at Ringwood Manor, about 5 miles away.
Toss the papers! Calculator be gone! I grabbed the bins and the camera and was off! And when I got there, all I had to do was open the car door, walk across the parking lot to the stand of hemlocks, lift my binoculars, and Bing! There they were, slicing and dicing their way through the hemlock cones. Long may they live.
Ya just gotta know what's important in life. Life.

A Good Neighbor

After turning on the dishwasher, I went to change the sheets on the bed. Suddenly, I heard a loud engine and thought, oh no, the dishwasher has broken. There's going to be water all over the kitchen! But a second later, I realized the sound was coming from outside, and glanced out the window to a more welcomed sight than Santa Claus sliding down the chimney: Our neighbor, Roy, had arrived to clear our driveway of snow and ice. My husband has done the same for him over the years, and I am grateful all over again for the goodness in people.
Thank you!

My Power Bird

I took the Blogthings test again and am a little embarrassed that I ended up with a vulture as my power bird. My sister’s power bird turns out to be a swan, which, socially speaking, would be more welcome at your party. I took the test three times to see if I could come up with something other than a vulture. I got the same answer every time.

"You are always changing your life and the lives of those around you.
You aren't afraid to move on from what holds you back.
Energetic and powerful, you have a nearly unlimited capacity for success.
You know how to 'go with the flow' and take advantage of what is given to you.”

This doesn’t really fit at the moment, though not through lack of effort on my part. Certain unbloggable events have created roadblocks and right know I’m working on the last line about going with the flow. I brighten up a bit; however, when I read what Ted Andrews says about vultures in “Animal Speak.” All you folks with the pretty birds may just be a little jealous now:

“In alchemy, the vulture was a symbol of sublimation, particularly because of its resemblance to the eagle. The vulture was considered a sign of confirmation of a new relationship between the volatile aspects of life and the fixed, the psychic energies and the cosmic forces. It was a promise that the suffering of the immediate was temporary and necessary for a higher purpose was at work, even if not understood at the time....”

So here it is; my new bird totem. You never know.

Random Reveals

I am honored to be tagged by The Feather and the Flower for a meme to reveal six things about myself. Here are the rules:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up

To rev up my thinking processes, I took a quiz to reveal what my personal power bird might be. NetFlickster’s bird is a cardinal. Ah! You don’t have to be a birder to appreciate the handsome profile of flying scarlet! I read about others: swans, eagles, wrens. Oh, I thought, I wonder what my power bird is. Like other birders, my favorite species changes with what I happen to be looking for at the moment, but I can say that the Common Loon is right up there on my list. Often solitary, ethereal, reclusive. I took the test and eagerly waited for the result:

1. So...my first random thing about myself: My Power Bird is a Vulture. Oh well. I have always been impressed by a vulture’s ability to adapt. I stop people from referring to them as “ugly,” since that is a human value projected on a creature who has cleverly adapted to its environment. No head feathers means no tidying up after gutting the latest road kill. No muss, no fuss. Don’t you just hate crusty malar feathers after a gooey highway snack?

2. I crave solitude but rarely get it, even though we have no children. This is not a complaint, just a wish. Wait, maybe both.

3. I love winter but am scared of driving in snow. Do it anyway.

4. Favorite cuisine? I know you are dying to know this. Indian, especially the recipes from the cookbooks by Madhur Jaffrey.

5. I once canoed the Allagash River in Maine, one of two rivers in the US that runs south to north. Paddled all 110 miles of it with a very congenial group and an excellent guide. I dream of doing this again with a group of women before my life on this earth is over. Anyone want to join me?

6. I would rather shovel horse manure than go to a business meeting. Sometimes it's the same thing.

Running this meme is a fun thing to do, so if you would like to join in, consider yourself tagged!

Northern Hawk Owl

There have been reports lately about a Northern Hawk Owl spotted in Peru, NY. This is a bird that breeds in the boreal forests of Alaska and Canada. If food is scare, a hungry wanderer will find its way down to the northern United States. Roughly the size of a crow, this diurnal owl can find and seize a vole or a mouse from ½ mile away, even if its prey is buried in up to a foot of snow.
While I have traveled for some spectacular birding expeditions, I am not inclined to drive 8-hours round trip to see one bird that may or may not be there when I arrive. My weekend times away from work are precious. There is housework to be done, errands to complete, phone calls to made, books to read, horses to be ridden. I am reluctant to spend hours sitting on the NY Thruway unless the return is pretty certain. So when Bev from BehindtheBins (who lives 20 minutes away) twittered that she was driving up to “get” the Hawk Owl and wanted to know if anyone was interested in joining her... of course, I tweeted back, “WHEN?”
We left 24 hours later. She drove.
We spent the predawn hours on the NY State Thruway and arrived about 9:30am on a snowy road where the bird had been reported to be seen “often perched on telephone poles or in the local orchards, very easy to see….” Only last Saturday was VERY windy, driving the chill factor to below zero. We sat by the side of the road in down coats and hats and gloves. Sat there, and sat there, and sat there, occasionally chatting with other birders who were arriving from Connecticut, New York City, Long Island, Queens, Albany. We exchanged cell numbers so we could scout around and call each other if the bird was found. Brief forays to nearby fields yielded a sparkling flock of over 50 Bohemian Waxwings (lifer!) as well as the usual Titmice, Black-capped Chickadees, Cardinals. We watched a Kestrel swoop in on a group of Horned Larks foraging on the roadside. Someone else saw Snow Buntings. Every now and then, one of the Peru residents would slow down and ask us, “Are you here to see the Hawk Owl? It’s usually right there, EVERY DAY.” Except Saturday, when we were there.
About 3pm, we were cold and stiff from sitting in the car so long and wondered if we should shove off, but dreaded the words every birder has heard at least once, “It showed up five minutes after you left.” So we waited. And while Bev chatted with another birder, I gazed through my binoculars for the millionth time over an overgrown field as the cold wind razored my cheeks…
And there it was: The Northern Hawk Owl, perched on a snag.
No military unit moves faster than a bunch of birders on a quest. Within seconds, tripods spidered the side of the road and scopes were trained on the bird of the year. A minute later, it flew, but a kind motorist happened by and informed us the bird was perched a quarter of a mile away, so we zoomed over to get our fill of what turned out to be a very cooperative owl, as were the birders themselves, who were careful not to get too close or to interfere with its hunting.
Here it is, peering left, so you only see one yellow eye. My camera is not powerful enough to get a clear shot and the wind made it hard to be still. Nevertheless, it is still a thrill to have taken my own picture of an incredible creature.
So…where to next….?

Where Are The Peanuts?

As I sipped my coffee this morning, I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. It was early and my husband was still snoring in the bedroom, but the sun was already promising a cloudless day. The titmice, chickadees and juncos were jabbing at the newly replenished feeders and I had settled down into my daily routine of writing my Morning Pages. New Year’s Day offers lots of writing fodder as long as I avoid tiresome resolutions.
But there was another awareness in the room, a restlessness beside my own. Something was waiting. For me. I looked around. Our six cats were picking out their napping territories. I had the day off from work. The neighbors were not out walking their dogs yet.
I glanced out the sliding glass door that opens to the backyard deck. In the bare oak branches beyond the railing were half a dozen black crows staring at me through the window. Once in a while, one would flick a wing and cock its head to the side to glare at me. Laced throughout the smaller branches flicked the nervous wings of at least ten Blue Jays, also facing the window. One flew to the rail and poked at the wood, then flew back to the trees.
The crows suddenly burst into a chorus of caws and croaks. There was much head bobbing. They soared around the yard and rearranged themselves again in the dark trees, and sat still again, watching me and my coffee cup.

Where are the peanuts?

(The photos were taken through glass--please pardon the blurriness)

Goodbye 2008!

Goodbye 2008!

Happy 2009!