I wonder why it took me so long to add fresh flowers to the grocery list?
I spent some time this morning editing the photos I took yesterday. I took this one, of a grey heron, out the car window. He pulled the car over along this tiny, narrow road as I quickly stuck my camera out the window and hit the shutter twice. I didn’t have much hope that either of them would turn out, and was pleased this one worked.
The bird photographers were out in force yesterday. Lining the roads that crisscross through the Skagit Valley farmland. Some had lenses mounted on tripods, while others held lenses that were so big, I wondered how they held them steady. I admit, I have lens envy.
I study this photo until I narrow down what it is that I like… remnants of winter coming to and end, tiny green shoots here and there, signs of spring, as Percy calls them, the tones and textures of the earth and how they match the heron, making him hard to spot, the ditch of rainwater in front of him and the muddy field behind, along with the interesting weeds that rise above him. . . I like all of these things. I also like spending the day with him and the dog, just going for a ride, just to see what we might see. I feel like we hit pay dirt.
We drive through the Skagit Valley, getting off the main roads and into the farmland. I am happy to discover there are birds everywhere. He stops, backs up, and turns around when I ask. There is a sprinkling of snow on the mountain tops surrounding the valley, but I can feel spring around the corner. We stop on our way home and buy one espresso milkshake (for lunch!), and share it. When we get home I soak some lentils, bought at the India market yesterday, and make Dal for dinner. As the house fills with warming spices I feel a bit settled, allowing the goodness of the last few days to wash over me.
We meet at the new India grocery store in town and wander the isles together. Afterwards, I take him to lunch and we talk and talk. Later on I remind myself that how important it is for me to spend time alone with my boys from time to time. Time to enjoy the men they have become, and remember the little boys they once were.
He follows me home and we spilt up the goodies we bought at the store (bags of beautiful lentils and tiny split peas). A light dusting of snow starts to fall as he leaves and I take my camera out to the hellebores to help me hold on to the day.
“There was a vase of flame-coloured tulips in the hall – surely the most graceful of flowers. Some thrust their heads forward like snakes, and some were very erect, stiff, virginal, rather prim. Some were dying, with curved grace in their death.”
— Jean Rhys
As the tulips die …