A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment:
Most winters our bird feeders are constantly covered in these hungry little birds. They are Pine Siskins, noisy, active, argumentative, and always fun to watch. This winter I have not seen a single one. Where are they? I have missed them.Books, gardens, birds, the environment, politics, or whatever happens to be grabbing my attention today.
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Friday, March 11, 2022
This week in birds - #492
Wednesday, March 9, 2022
Dead Water by Ann Cleeves: A review
Monday, March 7, 2022
A Game of Fear by Charles Todd: A review
Charles Todd has been the name used by a mother and son writing team of mysteries. In a sad note at the beginning of this book the son informs us of the death of his mother. They've had a good run. This is the 24th in the Ian Rutledge series.
Saturday, March 5, 2022
Poetry Sunday: March by William Cullen Bryant
The winds of March are upon us. No storms, at least not yet, but working outside is a constant struggle to keep windblown hair out of my eyes. We are finally having pleasant days, other than the wind, and I have been able to get outside and do work in the garden this past week. It's a great release after being cooped up inside for much of the winter. Unlike most years, we have actually had a sustained winter this year. Normally, we have about a week of cold weather and then straight into spring, but not this year. And so, I am better able to appreciate the coming of March and the changing of the seasons that it brings. William Cullen Bryant appreciated it, too.
March
by William Cullen Bryant
The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.
Ah, passing few are they who speak,
Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;
Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
Thou art a welcome month to me.
For thou, to northern lands again,
The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
And thou hast joined the gentle train
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
When the changed winds are soft and warm,
And heaven puts on the blue of May.
Then sing aloud the gushing rills
And the full springs, from frost set free,
That, brightly leaping down the hills,
Are just set out to meet the sea.
The year's departing beauty hides
Of wintry storms the sullen threat;
But, in thy sternest frown abides
A look of kindly promise yet.
Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,
And that soft time of sunny showers,
When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,
Seems of a brighter world than ours.
Friday, March 4, 2022
This week in birds - #491
A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment:
Spotted Towhee having a drink. Photographed at Fort Davis in West Texas.Anthem by Noah Hawley: A review
This is either a polemic about the unsettled nature of modern society or it is a book about a ragtag bunch of teenagers out to save the world. Maybe it is both. Frankly, it is really hard for me to say just what it is. The main story is fiction and yet the author keeps interrupting himself with personal observations, explanations, and apologies. He can't seem to just let his fiction speak for itself. In one of his personal interjections, he writes: "First of all, your author would like to apologize for the world he has created. He knows it is ridiculous. The fact that the world he lives in is also ridiculous is no excuse. The author's job is to make sense of the senseless." Well, yes, that is sort of the writer's job description and in this instance, Hawley has failed miserably.
Tuesday, March 1, 2022
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: A review
In this book which was shortlisted for the 2005 Booker Prize, Kazuo Ishiguro gives us an alternate reality of England in the 1990s. Human cloning takes place in this world and the person through whose eyes we see that world, Kathy H., is herself a clone. The clones are created to be organ donors. Kathy describes herself as a carer, one who looks after the donors. She has been a carer for about twelve years at the time of this narration.