XIHe rode over ConnecticutIn a glass coach.Once, a fear pierced him,In that he mistookThe shadow of his equipageFor blackbirds.
Yesterday’s Phenology: It got up to 35 or so today, the coldest day of the week, the weather guy said on the radio, and 7 degrees above average. Possibly up to the 60 mark in the next day or two? Not a lot of snow left now. This feels like March to me, or perhaps early April. Not good.
Song of the Day: Skip James, Crow Jane
VIIII know noble accentsAnd lucid, inescapable rhythms;But I know, too,That the blackbird is involvedIn what I know.
VIIO thin men of Haddam,Why do you imagine golden birds?Do you not see how the blackbirdWalks around the feetOf the women about you?
VIIcicles filled the long windowWith barbaric glass.The shadow of the blackbirdCrossed it, to and fro.The moodTraced in the shadowAn indecipherable cause.
Saw a crow fly over as we walked. Nothing more.
Yesterday’s Phenology: Sunny and a tad warmer yesterday, after another single-digit start. An endless stream of crows headed to the river as I walked Flynn after work.
VI do not know which to prefer,The beauty of inflectionsOr the beauty of innuendoes,The blackbird whistlingOr just after.
Yesterday’s Phenology: Another day of gray, hovering about 32, as if trying to decide which way to go. Sounds like more of that ahead.
Poetry Corner: Wallace Stevens, continued…
III was of three minds,Like a treeIn which there are three blackbirds.
Song of the Day: Peter, Paul, and Mary, The Three Ravens
Yesterday’s Phenology: the start of the January thaw? When I woke up in was about 5 degrees, but when we left the house about 1ish it was up to about 30 degrees, and we ended up sneaking up above freezing, up to 33 degrees. Needless to say, there was widespread enthusiasm for this. Bermuda shorts were out and the young folk were tossing frisbees in the parks. A nice sunny day, reminding us of what things can be like on occasion.
The Art Institute was crowded today, it being the last day for the Martin Luther show. I missed it.
Song of the Day: Orff, O Fortuna
Yesterday’s Phenology: Mornings and evenings (commuting) are definitely lighter, which makes for a better drive. -10 this morning, though, made it a bit difficult to appreciate the vaguely brighter sky. One of my spotters reported observing sun dogs this morning, chasing the sun on his commute. He’s a reliable source, I think. The temperature topped out at about +5 this afternoon. A sunny morning that didn’t fool anyone, and then cold gloomy blue cloudiness in the afternoon. My canine phenologist reports that it is too darn cold to walk out there. Much more pleasant to be sleeping on the couch.
A radio survey I hear this week on NPR reported that, given the option of having more money or more time, people generally chose more money. Perhaps they are thinking that if they had more money they could then have more time? Me? Give me more time, please. You?
Song of the Day: Gaelynn Lea, NPR Tiny Desk Concert
Yesterday’s Phenology: A very fall-like day, overcast, a chilly breeze, in the mid-40s. Went to the dogpark in the morning, and many of the trees there are bare, especially so at the top of the trail, but even down below, by the river there is a nice soft carpet of leaves for the dogs to run on. And run they do. Had some fresh-picked raspberries with my granola this morning. Unusual for late October, but I may still be getting some in November, by the look of things.
Song of the day: the Police, Spirits in the Material World
Yesterday’s Phenology: Worst. Phenology. Blog. Ever.
Beautiful fall day. Sunny and upper 50s. Haven’t seen any Hummingbirds in awhile either.
Song of the day: Bruce Springsteen, State Trooper
Second Saturday family art event at the Midtown Farmer’s Market is always fun!
Yesterday’s phenology: cloudy most of the day, and cool, and nice. 60s? Probably got into the 70’s yesterday, and now it’s into the 50s at night. We all know where that is leading. We have a waning gibbous moon tonight, very beautiful up there in the sky. And now I learned that a gibbous moon is a moon that is over half illuminated. Less than half is a crescent moon. Seems like I should have known that, but this is one of those little details that is easily glossed over amidst all the chaos of day to day life. But now I know. Gibbous. And crescent.
You’re probably wondering, gibbous? Where’d that come from? Well it came from the middle English, from late Latin gibbosus, from Latin gibbus: ‘hump.’ So that explains that. Case closed.
Song of the day: Vincent, Don McLean
Somewhere around Rosedale, in the parking lot of a parking lot for a parking lot deep within one of the many sub-mall spin-offs
Yesterday’s Phenology: A nice fall day. Came across a tree this morning that was a flutter with juvenile cedar waxwings. They were not as colorful as the adults, but had the little head crest, and the mask over the eyes, and the bright yellow bar on the tip of the tail. There were a lot in the tree, and they were all jumping around, it kind of looked like fun. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology says that in the fall these guys will gather in the hundreds to eat berries, and we thought that might be what they were up to, but there weren’t hundreds of them. Maybe 30 or so. It was hard to get a good count. They were kind of noisy, though.
Other than that, not much. A single peal of thunder in the evening, but no rain, I don’t think. The sumac in our yard is edged with red in a couple of spots.
Song of the day: Goin’ Down, by… yes… the Monkees.