I know I mentioned seeing a Dark-eyed Junco on our trip to Skyline Drive last week, but I had not seen one in Bethesda until this morning. I was unloading the dishwasher (check that off the list for today) and saw a flurry of movement on the deck. There, a few feet from the sliding French door was a Dark-eyed Junco. I don’t recall seeing them so early before, but they are ground feeders, so I probably missed them at the feeder when it was just outside the window, pretty much exactly where the Dark-eyed Junco sat. It must have detected movement because it flew away, white tail feathers flashing. I then saw several others farther back in the yard, some must have been feasting on zinnia seeds.
While the Dark-eyed Junco is a harbinger of colder weather (which I do not find delightful), the birds cannot help that so I find them a delight.
That song used to stop me in my tracks when it came on the radio or played over the speakers in a store in the days before Spotify and mp3 players. It reminds me of my days in London and the following summer, after I’d purchased the album it was on and played it over and over again to reminisce about that experience. I wrote about it on my song-blog years ago.
I was able to truly test out my new camera today on a visit to Kenilworth Park & Aquatic Gardens this morning. It is not an optimal time to visit the park, and part of it is closed off due to the pandemic, but there were some photographic opportunities.
The lotus flowers were all gone, leaving their trypophobia-triggering seed pods in their place. I tend to get a little squeamish when looking at the pods, but I also find them delightful.
Most of the wildflowers were gone, but there was still some color. I especially delighted in seeing the jewel weed. It’s always been a favorite of mine. I grew up calling it touch me not, but I think I like jewel weed better — it is supposed to be good for poison ivy rashes.
This pile of dirt brought back a delightful memory. When I was quite young — maybe seven or so, three homes were built on our street. For a time there were large piles of dirt on the lots as the builders dug out dirt for the foundations and basements. I remember climbing those hills with friends, and alone, and purposely falling down them to recreate my favorite scene in the film Snowfire where the main character, a girl slightly older than I was, falls down a large hill, maybe even part of a small mountain, and breaks her wrist (leg?). This is a pivotal part in the film, if I recall correctly, because her parents think the horse has harmed her and plan to kill the horse. Anyway, I fell down that pile of dirt a lot that summer and this pile of dirt made me remember that other pile of dirt in my life (although this is much smaller than mine was — I think).
The last delight of Kenilworth was this blue kazoo on a picnic bench. I was sure that it was left there by a child who’d recently been delightfully blowing on it and making squawky kazoo music.