Marching Forth
March is a strange in-between season—not quite spring and no longer winter.
I find many examples of neither-here-nor-there in my back yard these days. Bare tree branches host scores of migrating birds, including one of my favorites—the orange and blue varied thrush—whose buzzing “twee” I can hear as I walk neighborhood. The chorus frogs have begun to creak and croak, starting a role call for the season on the edges of the yard.
I watch the bees take cleansing flights, and when I crack the hive, I can see them eating the honey I tucked inside to bridge the season. Already they’re beginning to rebuild their numbers with the queen laying hundreds of eggs per day.
The chickens are more active too. Queenie, Cookie, Alice, and Adelaide spent much of the winter inside their run avoiding the snow. Now whenever they see a human, they charge out and skid to a stop like Kramer entering a room on Seinfeld. Every beautiful blue-green egg—still warm from a feathered body—feels like a present.
Other seasonal developments are not as quaint—like the possum.
I found it in the run at sundown the other night, snacking on chicken pellets. When I clapped my hands to chase it off, it took its time, grimacing at me like Bilbo Baggins when possessed by the ring. Another night, it perched on a low branch, fully in reach of my barking dog, but with its back turned. And it worked, this Bartleby the Scrivener routine. She didn’t know what to do.
Backyard chores and dramas are a comforting distraction in a chaotic world. Shifting Covid protocols bring new challenges, which I hope we’ll weather with grace. Pacific Northwesterners are thinking ahead to wildfire season during what’s reportedly the worst drought in 12,000 years. Everyone watches the horrific attack on the young democracy of the Ukraine feeling powerless.
It’s hard to know what to do with these larger traumas and tragedies. That not-knowing is another difficult in-between time. I’m trying to pay attention, give money where it seems most helpful, be kind to the people I interact with, and appreciate the good that I continue to see around me every day.
I find relief in my own homey routines, like feeding those I love, reading, and writing.
Recent reads: The Good Rain by Timothy Egan, an older book I’ve been meaning to read for ages. (Read it to understand the impact, initial and ongoing, of our nation on Native American tribes, rivers, salmon, sea otters, and forests of the Pacific Northwest.) Also The Electricity of Every Living Thing by Katherine May—a fascinating memoir about the startling process of self-discovery during her attempt to walk England’s 640-mile South West Coast Path. And I’ve just cracked (and can’t put down) a wonderful and fascinating new book by Florence Williams called Heartbreak: A Personal And Scientific Journey about her quest to understand the science of why heartbreak is so painful after the end of her long marriage.
As for my writing, I’m looking forward to the paperback publication of The Music of Bees in April (with a beautiful new cover!) and in-person events ahead.
LIVE: April 23-34 Pioneer Library System in Oklahoma (events in Newcastle, Norman, and Shawnee)
LIVE: May 7, Auntie’s Bookstore in Spokane (at The Hive)
LIVE: May 26, Skamania County Reads (at the Stevenson Community Library.)
Happy not-quite-Spring!