TGIF 3.15.24

Hello Gentle Readers. Spring arrives early here. While walking, I notice the green leaf tips on ornamental pear trees and the red fringe on maple leaves. These daffodils survived onslaught from the squirrels and bloom bravely on this chilly morning. On Tuesday, we drove two hours west of Lincoln to see the spring migration of the sandhill cranes. Once again, we stood on the pedestrian bridge over the Platte River at sunset. It was a perfect evening for being outdoors, warm for March and no wind. 

This Friday, I am thinking about the miraculous migration of so many birds. The record numbers of cranes migrating is heartening. The smell of the river, the ancient music of the cranes, the setting sun over the river are all part of the familiar experience. We arrived about mid-afternoon and found a spot to watch them feed and dance in a field. The Nebraska Game and Parks Commission estimates the cranes consume 1600 tons of waste corn from nearby fields. Counts vary but well over 500,000 cranes spend time in the Platte River Valley. Conservation efforts to preserve the habitat and educate landowners as well as bird lovers are ongoing. This link will take you to a short video about the migration. This year, just after sundown, birds roosted on the sandbar visible in the distance. That doesn't always happen. Sometimes they roost in another location.

I am grateful for rain that fell Wednesday evening and Thursday morning. Our winter season has been dry. It's good to see damp earth, if only for a day or two. The rhythm of the seasons, this gradual unfolding of the Spring, even if early, is reassuring.

I am inspired by the gentle comradery of strangers standing on the bridge. From the elderly gentleman pushing his wife in a wheelchair, the persons who made a space for her to see through the railing, the families teaching young children about sandhill cranes and the river, to the gentleman offering to share his binoculars with a fellow observer, everyone was kind. Standing shoulder to shoulder, we engaged in quiet (so as not to frighten the birds) conversation about the evening, the river, the sunset, the cranes, other natural wonders, and home towns. I listened to voices of women from Minnesota eager for a glimpse of Spring, a couple from Colorado, and a fellow Lincolnite who comes every year.  A grandmother helped a little girl look at deer crossing the river. There were no raised voices or fraught accusations about red or blue states but instead a quiet wonder in this evening. Perfect strangers spent a few peaceful hours together. Here lies hope. 

As for fun, I gathered some supplies for a project that's been brewing in my mind. I plan to create  a version of a table runner I heard about a few years ago. Recently I ordered a back issue of Taproot Magazine to read more about the project. For me, patterns are only suggestions, so I'll likely adapt it as I go. 

I wish you a good last weekend of winter.