Jaci Dawn

Weekends afford me the pleasure of taking photos of things I love. A faerie’s eye view of the wild violas that grow on the edges of my yard.

Sunflowers starting! The chickadees and juncos will be pleased when the plants grow tall and the seed heads ripen.  The past few years, I have not harvested the sunflower heads: the wild birds have gleaned them clean by the time the rains come. I am rewarded when the few seeds the birds missed sproutin the spring.

I love my birds.

I wish I could show you all the birds that came to my feeder today. The song sparrow, Townsend’s warbler, house finches, red-breasted nuthatches, white-breasted nuthatches, chestnut-sided chickadees, black-capped chickadees, bushtits, juncos, a pair of young European starlings (boo), the chipping sparrow and a Downy woodpecker. They were all in the tree pretty much at the same time, but then the eight-toed grey tabby crossed our lawn on his way back home and they flitted off to safety.

The yard is unkempt right now: too wet to mow, too cold to work in: a faerie-land for birds, bugs and wee people. In some ways, I like it this way: wild and overgrown. Mysterious.

The ugly mound of tough weed grass (I’m sure it has a name, but I don’t know what it is: it just is not lawn grass and it has taken over spots in our yard) looks unsightly and wild.

But from the faerie point of view, it’s a jungle to hide in. There could be homes and villages hidden inside there!

The fallen camellia flowers look… Well, OK. they just look ugly. There isn’t much help for camellias. Pink today, then purpley-bruised looking brown tomorrow. Somethings just aren’t very magic for very long. Look now or forever miss their fragile beauty!

A cushion of moss becomes a walkway in the yard: fern like leaves weaving in and out of each other. I like the mossy pathways.

The rhododendron branches create a webwork of crisses and crosses, twists and turns, and wild entanglements. Here is where the small birds like to hide. Hidden behind the canopy of evergreen leaves, hopping in and out of the maze of branches, seeking the tiny ants, spiders, and other insects that make this their home.

I wish sometimes I was small enough to climb around in these branches, exploring upward and outward. The rhododendron has stories to tell.

I’m inspired to start working on some art work again. As soon as I have all of my things back in my room: my materials all in one place, at an easy reach! I’m getting excited.