A couple of weeks ago, as the weather turned to spring, I finally dug my bike out from under the bed and unpacked it from the boxes where it had languished these many years. Without too much difficulty, and only one very cool blood blister, I put it back together--including air in the tires which seems to be holding very well. Alas, I could not take it for more than a test spin around the block because my helmet didn't keep up with us and has been lost (and yes, I'm that annoyingly-helmet-adamant person).
Yesterday I had a lovely walk uptown to the farmers market, and I stopped along the way at the sports store and bought a new one. So that this morning I could wrap up my pant leg and go for an honest-to-goodness bike ride. Turns out the bike trails of Fort Collins offer a whole new and undiscovered side to this wonderful city. The natural side. As if we weren't surrounded by it anyway. I have driven by and seen on the maps many of the greenspace areas of our town. Today I entered them and beheld our own little slice of natural beauty.
My first leg took me down my own street with its spacious bike lane until I reached the east/west bike trail along Spring Creek. This mainly followed the creek behind people's houses. But it is where I saw a red fox. Then after biking through a city park with playgrounds and ponds, I came to the prairie dog town. I heard them before I saw them. And I took advantage of a bench to take a break and watch them for awhile. In the background was a busy street that I have taken many times. Because of a berm and a sloping hill, I had never noticed either the bike path or the animals. My primary thought as I watched them in the lazy morning sun was that they too did not choose to live in a city, but they are making the best of it, living their funny, little prairie dog lives.
Continuing on, I met up with our main river, the Cache la Poudre (cash lah pooder). I came across a kingfisher in a tree, then down to the water, then back to the tree. I wasn't surprised to see him/her because one section of this natural area is named after the kingfisher. What surprised me was how big he was. I became quite enamored of our Danube Delta kingfisher who is probably half the size of this belted kingfisher. I also saw ducks and geese in various sections of the river and surrounding wetlands.
Then home for an otherwise lazy Sunday, content in my little apartment and enjoying my city--not my preferred habitat, but making the best of it, living my funny little human life.
I plan to write a post with an ode to my iphone, but today I’m loving it because it also serves as a voice recorder. I spent my weekend in search of Sandhill cranes in Kearney, Nebraska. I was not disappointed as you shall soon see. But in preparation for our drive to Alaska this summer (more about that soon, too), I thought I would try out making short voice recordings en route to remember some of the sights out the window and musings there of. Here goes.
“Just out of Sterling where I was pulled over for speeding but not given a ticket, I have now seen a flock of something white in a cornfield, flying like geese, so look into…snow geese maybe. And also just saw a meadowlark on a milepost, milepost 144 on 76.”
“A flock of about 15 white pelicans flying overhead, milepost 160 on Highway 80.”
“I’ve got a pond full of those white geese, just east of milepost 160.”
“About 17 miles west of Kearney, I’m starting to see groups of cranes in the cornfields.”
“Arrived Kearney at 1:15 central time, driving a back road to get to the campground. Cornfields everywhere, lots and lots of cranes.”
“1:40 in the afternoon. Sweet campsite by a little pond, 79 degrees, and cranes everywhere.”
“Driving over to the Audubon center, I’m struck seeing all the cranes in the fields how they, in structure, look like storks, look very much like storks. Except that you never see that many storks together. And storks always followed tractors and turned-up fields because they were looking for insects, and I think that the cranes are eating corn. And the other difference is that the cranes are extremely gray. From a distance they look completely gray instead of the white of the storks.”
“OK, for the blog—the Mastercard imitation: Round-trip gas Fort Collins, Colorado, to Kearney, Nebraska, $72; Pondside campsite, $12; Naturalist-led blind-watching of cranes on the Platte River, $26; Catching the Sandhill crane migration, priceless.”
“3:45 in the afternoon and I’ve stopped alongside the dirt road, cow pasture on one side, small creek running through it. And there are hundreds of cranes and they appear to be having an afternoon nap. They are standing, and I’m not real close to them, but in my binoculars I can see they’re all standing, their necks are up, they aren’t eating, necks are slightly tucked but not tucked all the way in, and they’re just standing there. Hundreds of them.”
“Same pasture with the cranes, there are also a number of birds that look like killdeer chasing each other around the field, lots of em, I probably see ten of them right now.”
“4:30 in the afternoon and the cranes are still quite quiet in the field, quite windy out and very warm, strong south wind. I’m hearing, in addition to the killdeer, meadowlarks and also red-winged blackbirds. Lots of activity. Another note about cranes flying in the air. I don’t see any right now, but earlier I saw lots of them in flight and they will fly in very large groups, I just saw a group of about ten, or pairs and often even in large groups there are noticeable pairs in flight.”
“OK, it’s ten of six and I’m still here. The last recording was of a few going over. I was hoping they would talk but they didn’t. If another big group , they’re starting to take off and fly over to the cornfield. And it’s funny to watch them fly in the wind. It’s really strong wind and they sort of tack or crab along their way.”
“Just watching a pair of meadowlarks. They flew over me, very bright yellow. And then I watched them chase each other around this cow pasture with the cranes off in the distance, and it makes me think about how much I love cow pastures because they are the place where meadowlarks can be found.”
“Lot of them still sittin’ over there, slowly, there’s a group of three taking off and a group of ten up in the sky, but still a large number of ‘em over there hangin’ out. Ooo, and as I say that a group of maybe 30 has just taken off.”
Later, after I’d made up my bed in the back of the car, I walked the path to the river and the viewing platform which is part of the recreation area where I was camping. Watched thousands of cranes fly overhead as the sun set, but they were heading slightly downriver to spend the night.
This morning, I had a 6 am appointment at the Audubon center to sit in a blind with 20 other people to watch them wake up and start their days. The cranes roost in the river for protection from predators, then fly to the corn fields to eat during the day. They stay on this section of the Platte River for about a month in order to fatten up for the second leg of their migration north to Canada, Alaska, and Siberia. This is what the morning beheld.
I would write more about the sheer magical joy of seeing these birds and learning about the ten thousand-year fossil record of their migration through this section of the Platte, but the long drive and incessant wind have given me a headache. Just know that I was happy not to have to say good-bye, just a fare-thee-well til we meet again this summer in Alaska. They fly, I drive. 'Til then...
Yesterday I tentatively wrapped up a very large work project. I say tentatively because the project is our water division annual report, and we posted it to the internet yesterday. I promptly found mistakes in some of the weblinks in the document. Ugh.
However, it is done enough that I took today off, using some of the comp time I've earned in the past month. And I'm prompted to enumerate my day's activities after a funny conversation I had earlier in the week.
You'll remember that last week was Martisor. And I had a craft explosion in my living room. Monday I was sharing the story with my friend Pat, who works in our Denver office and visits on Monday. When I got to the part about handcrafting 50 pins, he looked at me and said, "You're sick." Meaning, you don't have enough to do? This led to a Peace Corps dicussion (Pat served in Kenya). Just last week I went to a reading of Peace Corps stories, and the author talked about "one-thing days" and the less-common "two-thing days" and the extreme rarity, the elusive "three-thing day." I explained to Pat that I'm still in that transitional phase of doing lots of things simply because it's easy to do them--because I can.
And so today on my well deserved day off: early morning creation of a spanish verb chart so I can practice my conjugations; some much needed spring clothes shopping; pedicure (did I mention spring is definitely coming to Fort Collins); lunch at a Thai restaurant as part of my new study of green curry (love to cook my Indian curries, Thai curries are completely different except both are delicious, spicy, and use a long list of ingredients you don't have in your kitchen); caught a matinee of The Artist at our art house theater (fun, but no Descendents or Tree of Life; treated the Kingfisher to a scrub; found time to blog; sang a few songs with the gee-tar; and might spend the evening with some TED talks and cookie-baking. I count this as an 8-thing day. Not counting guitar and computer viewing which are regular non-accomplishments.
I would have more on my list but I got one thing done during a bout of insomnia this past week. I was happy to be awake because of work-stress dreams earlier in the week. But then when I did go back to sleep, I dreamed of straw-colored beetles in my hair, leaving me crusty bald patches; my old truck; and my dead dog. Whew. I'm glad the weekend starts tomorrow. Remind me again how to get away with a "one-thing day"?
Thank you once again for my favorite holiday. This past week we saw the arrival of the first of March, known in some parts as Marţişor (mart-see-SHORE). I took the opportunity, as long planned, to share this celebration of the coming of spring with my new friends and coworkers. I took Veronica's simple yet stunning design for paper-and-glue pins and turned my house into a marţişoare factory (note to self--not too soon to buy that vacuum cleaner). Then on Thursday, I spread the love to nearly 50 women (and a few wives and daughters of plaid-wearers) in my office building. The reception was fantastic. Well honestly, who doesn't need a little springtime this time of year? Alas, I could not find snowdrops in a pot (a spectacular bit of poor planning on my part). So I just put mixed flowers in my fiestaware pitcher (thank you Melody) and called it spring.
I hope my friends in Romania had a wonderful day. I have extremely fond memories of our day last year celebrating in Bucuresti with our 50th Peace Corps Anniversary/GAD art and writing contest event on March 1st (and Ionela's birthday too!). And in honor of my friends in Romania, I wore my pretty turquoise necklace (a gift from Aurelia last year) and my matching Courtney-made earrings.
On a side note, although I do look forward to the coming of spring, I must say that I have never passed such a carefree winter as I am passing now in Colorado. There are a few reasons. First of all, we really don't get that much snow in Fort Collins. Second, I have the perfect car now for driving in snow, if we get it. Third, I have a permanent job that does not dry up in the winter. Fourth, my heat is included in my rent so I don't have to budget for huge heating bills. Fifth, the sunshine is nearly non-stop. While I have always had one or more of these conditions, I don't recall a time when I have had all of them. Winter can actually be quite wonderful and low stress. Who knew?
Nonetheless, we look forward to the coming of the light which seemed just a little closer this past week.
In Romania the 1st of March is a celebration of the coming of spring. It is tradition on this day, called Marţişor, to give women and girls marţişoare—small decorative pins with a red and white ribbon. White represents the snow of winter and red represents the fertility of spring. In addition to the symbolism of the red and white ribbon, Marţoşor is celebrated with snowdrops, the first flower of spring. Vendors sell small bundles of these delicate white flowers on street corners all over Romania. It is appropriate for women and girls to wear their marţişoare pins for eight days, until International Womens Day on March 8th. Happy Marţişor.
