Carol Goodman Kaufman

a.k.a. Carolinda Goodman

Nature

“They flash upon that inward eye”

by 1 Comment

One glorious spring morning a few years ago, I went out for my morning walk through the neighborhood. On the particular route that day I passed the little brook that feeds into Indian Lake. I glanced down to see a cheerful group of bright yellow daffodils growing on the steep banks of the stream. And, lo and behold, growing between the rocks in the streambed itself were bright red tulips! The water, swelled by spring run-off, was swirling all around the bobbing crimson heads.

How did the tulip bulbs get into the brook in the first place? Did they self-propagate, or did somebody throw them away? More important, how could they possibly grow in the water like that?

I must take a picture of this, I thought, since nobody will believe it’s  possible for flowers to grow in the water like that. I completed my walk, but as soon as I reached home I told my family, “I have to go back and take a picture. You’re not going to believe what I saw. Do you want to come with me? We’ll be back in 20 minutes.” I was babbling as much as that brook.

I bent over to grab the camera from its shelf below the television, and a terrific pain shot up my spine.   I lay down on the floor and didn’t move.

Six weeks later, I had recovered to the point at which I could walk. Of course, by that time the tulips were long gone and I was distraught to have missed the chance to record that once-in-a-lifetime picture. And it was indeed a one-time-only event. I have gone past that brook umpteen times every spring over the past dozen years, never to see the phenomenon again.

With apologies to William Wordsworth I think I was meant not to photograph the phenomenon, just to keep it in my mind’s eye forever. Perhaps it was God’s way of telling me to live in the moment.

 

Finally, Spring!

by 4 Comments

The first few years after we moved into our house, I would develop a strange craving every spring for cottage cheese that coincided with the first mowing of the lawn. It took a while for me to realize that it was the chives growing outside that I was smelling.

Somebody living in our home decades ago must have had the great idea that a pot of chives would be a fine addition to the garden. Unfortunately, the darn things propagate like rabbits, so every spring I spend an inordinate amount of time removing them.

Which brings me to why I was out in the backyard last Sunday. Preparing the vegetable garden bed for planting requires pulling not just weeds, but the thousands of chives.

While engaged in the solitary task, a beautiful birdcall caught my attention. “Chhirr, chiirrr, ba da, ba da, ba da” (at least that’s as close as I can come to translating bird). I looked around, trying to find the source of the song. And there it was. Perched on a branch of the tree on the other side of the garden wall was a magnificent crimson cardinal. What made it so special is that the Bradford Pear was in full spring bloom, its snowy white blossoms standing in stark contrast to the bird’s vibrant coloring.

Most photographs of cardinals that I see feature snow covered pine boughs, and are usually associated with Christmas cards. It was refreshing to see this bright representative of spring, especially after the long and arduous winter we had just endured. (Worcester earned the dubious distinction of being the snowiest city in the U.S. this winter.) Blue skies, green foliage, and flowers and birds of every hue are most welcome.

This year’s resolution: Must get outside more to enjoy both the warming weather and the therapeutic benefits of gardening.

The cardinal sings

Hummingbirds are back!

by 1 Comment

Like the swallows at Capistrano, the hummingbirds are back. In our case, it’s a family of three that has been coming to us for the past four years. First, some history: The local police chief informed us that having a regular bird feeder with seed was not a good idea, given the bears in our neck of the woods. In fact, a big news story at the time reported on a mother-cub duo that invaded the home of television personality Gene Shalit, just a few miles down the road.

I first got interested in hummingbirds during a trip to Costa Rica. On return home I purchased a beautiful, sculpture-like feeder from a birding shop.  As beautiful as the feeder was, it had two little test tubes that needed to be refilled every day — those tiny birds eat a lot to maintain their high-velocity wings. Then, of course, one of the test tubes broke and I couldn’t find one the right size – even on a website devoted solely to, yes, test tubes.

Rather than continue to search for one little test tube and spend my days pouring nectar, I bought a standard feeder. You know the ones, the big glass tube with red trim and yellow plastic flowers. Tradition has it that the red is supposed to attract hummingbirds. (Of course, I also see the birds feeding at my pale lavender wisteria and white snap pea blossoms.) This new feeder can hold four cups of fluid and needs refilling only once every week or two.

This particular feeder hangs from a wrought iron post directly outside the dining room window. We find ourselves staring at it as we eat, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rapid-flying beauties. Every ten minutes, like clockwork, a bird approaches the feeder for a snack. And, each bird is different. One has a red band around its neck, another a white breast, while a third is pale green. The birds move so fast that at first it was hard to see the differences among them, but with time we have come to know our feathered friends. Plus, with the help of the sports setting on my camera, and some patience, I have been able to capture some very good images of our summer guests. A couple photos are included with this post.

The first three years we had the feeder, the birds zoomed in, took a sip, and zipped away. This year, they have begun to linger. Are they slowing down with age? Or, are they feeling more comfortable with us than when they first started coming to our yard?

A few weeks ago I pulled into the driveway to discover the wrought iron post parallel to the ground, and the feeder emptied of all fluid. The previous night’s heavy rainstorm had affected nothing else – neither a twig nor a leaf was out of place — so I was surprised that this one thing had fallen.

Until our neighbor Andy informed me that he saw a bear lumbering up our driveway.

Apparently this bear had a sweet tooth. And we have a wildlife preserve. I am very glad that the hummingbirds can fly very fast.