Today at Shangri-Laura

Anise Hyssop Tea

I sometimes suspect that I may have been a bee in a past life.

That is the only way I can explain my penchant for planting invasive herbs in my garden. I have mint, lemon balm, anise hyssop, oregano...

All the gardeners out there are shaking their heads, in sympathy and pity.  But then again, weeding my horrifically overgrown garden beds does make for a lovely aromatherapy experience.

And if you haven't ever tasted an anise hyssop bloom, you are missing out on one of life's greatest pleasures. Just one tiny blossom is a delightful burst of honeyed licorice. I can see why the bees go crazy for it.

This year I'm finally getting around to doing something I have intended to do for the longest time, thanks to a dehydrator my mother recently gave me. Behold, the first leaves for my homemade, organic, anise hyssop tea.

Great Egret

Great Egrets were once nearly hunted to extinction because their stunning plumage was so coveted for human hats. Happily, early conservationists intervened and created some of the first laws protecting birds.

Juvenile Great Blue Herons have a white phase during which they can be confused with egrets. The easiest way to tell them apart is leg color. The Great Egret has black legs, while the young herons sport yellow (like the adults). 

I wish I could find the reference again but I read once that the heron white phase is actually adaptive in that herons are terrible parents who never teach their children how to fish. Apparently in their white phase the herons are able to follow along with egrets and learn from them without the egrets suspecting a thing, "Hey, I don't remember you. Are you my brother, Harold's kid? You fish just like him...here, watch me."

Now, since I can't find the reference again, this could all be a lie, but when the young herons come around, I can tell you...graceful, they ain't. The exquisite patience and stealth of the adults definitely is a learned skill. The young ones tromp through water like kindergarteners in rain puddles and slap their beaks on the water like beaver tails. I've often thought it a wonder that any of them catch enough food to make it to adulthood.

And, really, if I were looking for someone to teach me to fish, it would be this bird. That would be a fish and an 'almost' frog (not quite out of tadpole phase yet), caught with one strike. Of course, the bird was blinding white and it was about noon when I took the shot, so the quality isn't great but still, I was happy to have caught it at all.  I don't expect to see this happen too often!

Who Doesn't Love Oranges and Grape Jelly?

What used to be a very rare sight in my yard, has now become one of the regular delights of spring...the return of the Baltimore orioles!

I learned from my farmboy husband that orioles go crazy for oranges and grape jelly. I'll be sharing a story about that in a separate post (complete with an excerpt from a book I am writing which you will get many peeks of here) but I have shelter dog guests here today so this will just be a quick share to tide you over.

The funny development is that our other critters have been watching the orioles and have all decided they want in on some of the action. We have an orange loving chipmunk...

And soon I hope to have a photo of our robin who has become something of a grape jelly addict. In fact, we had a squirrel digging into the jelly recently, too. My husband set up a nifty little feeding station. We tuck oranges into the wild grapevine that encircles our deck. The jelly actually gets held in little glass votive holders which sit in wire holders stapled to our deck (see top photo).

Point is, maybe now would be a good time to buy stock in Smuckers. We have a new generation coming up, as you can see by this young oriole peeking into my kitchen window, so I think the demand will be ongoing.

 

Meanwhile, in My Astilbe Garden...

An elf is negotiating a friendly wager with a rabbit...

In honor of the Blackhawks winning of the Stanley Cup again this year, I have to introduce you to my father.

I'll never forget the 2010 Stanley Cup win. Scott and I watched it at my father's house on his floor to ceiling projection television. Not being a hockey fan, my father chose to watch his own favorite programs (CSI mostly) from the comfort of his waterbed. He had been ill for sometime (a story which requires a book...one that I will be sharing chapter of with you here), so his spending time in bed while we were visiting was not unusual.

This night was different though. It was also the last time I saw my father alive.

The elf above is named Frankie, after my father, Frank, and is resting atop some of his ashes. How Frankie came into our lives is a story for another day, but for now, you just need to know that he looks a lot like my father did toward the end.

And while I miss my father very much, Frankie always makes me smile. Let's take a closer look...

Yes, you do see coins in his bowl. Pinocle money. 

He never taught me how to play pinocle but we did play Rummy 500. I can still hear him as he deftly shuffled the cards, "Penny a point. I take all major credit cards."  

No matter how ill my father was, or how breathtakingly emaciated, he never failed to play cards with me at the end of the day on my visits to take care of him, and his house and dogs. And astonishingly, he remained absolutely sharp as a tack to the very end, no matter the weight loss, dehydration and failing physical strength.

I'm looking forward to telling you his story. But for now, it's enough to just enjoy this garden scene together.  And as for the rabbit?

I named him Daliege, after my father's childhood friend. My Dad and Don (Daliege) grew up together starting in first grade and stayed friends their entire lives. After my Dad retired, they spent many a Friday playing pinocle at Dad's house until Don developed dementia and was no longer able to travel to Dad's house. We lost Don a couple years after my father.

Before he became unable to use the phone, he would call my father's number sometimes and leave messages, having forgotten that Dad had passed. I waited until I knew the calls would no longer come before I contacted the phone company and let the number go.

Scarlet Tanager

Sometimes it is good to just look up and out your office window. This stunning scarlet tanager was directly in front of my face one day. Actually two consecutive days. I'll bet it has been 40 years since I have seen one.

 

In Praise of Weather. Any Kind Will Do.

I know a lot of people are probably bummin' over the rain again today (and holy moly, the mosquitos) but even in this flat light, rainy morning that is probably ruining someone's Friday off, I'm happy.

For many years of my life (most of my 30's), I worked in a basement office, about 8 x 10 (maybe), in what had once been a storage area for the hospital. It had no windows and horrific ventilation (acknowledged as such by the maintenance folks since humans were never meant to work in that area). For years I had chronic sore throats that went away every weekend when I was away from the building. We had high 'billable hour' requirments and half-hour lunches (when we didn't have meetings scheduled over them). That meant eating took place in the same area.

As a result, in the winters, I could literally go without seeing any sun for days at a time, arriving in dark morning and leaving after sunset. Being so far in the bowels of the building, I could never hear thunder, or rain, or know if it was snowing or if the breeze was just beautiful on a spring day.

I literally had no idea what the weather was for years of my fulltime working life.

Of course, even there I had to count myself lucky. My husband's office had previously been an x-ray room.

Not only was it smaller than mine but it was also encased in lead.

Morning Walk, with Blackbird

I have a special place in my heart for red-winged blackbirds. I grew up in a small beach community to the east of Gary, Indiana, with just a strip of sand dunes between our dead-end street and Lake Michigan.  One of my absolute favorite places on the planet was an area the kids on our street referred to as "The Valley".

The Valley was a depression between dunes that over years of fallen vegetation had begun to develop enough 'soil' to be able to hold water. Before long, marsh grasses took root and, soon after, frogs, muskrats and other moisture-loving critters began to call it home. I was absolutely enchanted by that tiny strip of land and spent countless hours there (when I wasn't being grounded for running off into the Dunes by myself).

Marsh grass and red-winged blackbirds go together like popsicles and hot summer days.

To this day, when I hear their call, I am transported back to grade school and those first warm days of spring, when our teachers would open up the classroom windows.  The call of the blackbirds through those open windows always beckoned me, announcing that school was about to end.

Or, perhaps, with all those nests I was about to discover (as the birds dive-bombed my head) and the tadpoles I would spend afternoons inspecting for the telltale bumps that told me frog legs would soon begin to grow, it was about to begin.

All I know is that even at age 52, you can still find me in the springtime wading knee deep through muck and water, through the low marshy trails which adjoin my neighborhood, ready for my school year to begin anew when the harsh trill of the blackbirds announces it is time to return.

Where in the Heck Do They Go?

I was just saying to Scott over lunch that I was hoping the mallard ducklings would arrive in our yard before they got to their gangly adolescent stage so I could show them to you. Within an hour he was calling me to come to the window with my camera to see them checking out the garden.

I'm not exactly sure how old they are but our neighbor counted the mom with ten ducklings a couple weeks ago. The amazing thing is that she still has all ten. On our marsh, between snapping turtles, fox, coyote, owls and Cooper's hawks, that is no small feat.

I was literally slithering on my belly on the patio to see if I could get a good shot. I've seen mom enough to know that she is very wary and I didn't want to spook her by standing up. Not that a person slithering toward her is less of a cause for concern, but I was hoping it might intrigue (or confuse) her enough to buy me some time. And besides, the fountain is always fun for babies of all species here, so there was that in my favor.

But the opportunity was short-lived, as apparently they had other plans for the afternoon. Next thing I knew, they were all marching, single-file, up my driveway, stopping a neighbor's car in the process, and walking their little selves up the street. 

I've seen mama ducks walk down our street in past years, in the opposite direction of the marsh, or come down the street and down our driveway to return to it. But where in the world they go is a mystery to me.

And, yes, that begs the question, "Why didn't I just follow them and see?"

Because she has somehow kept her ten vulnerable babies alive, despite predators and cars, so I'm assuming she must have found some place safer than the marsh to hide them out during the day. My following her would only have either blown her cover or made her feel like it was being blown and spooked her, forcing her to find a new place to stash them. Seems like being a single mom is a tough enough job without my adding that stress to her day.

The thing about living here is you have to remember the animals are not here for human entertainment. They actually live here, as much a part of this neighborhood as I am and are trying to survive through a myriad of challenges. Some years the odds against them can be pretty high. I'd like to think that I'm on their side in this whole thing. Knowing when curiosity and delight might become a harm to the very animals that you love and appreciate is an important lesson to learn.

And even though it means I have to live with a few unanswered questions, isn't it a wonderful thing to have a little mystery in life?

We don't need to know every. single. thing.

My New BFF?

You're not going to get sick of seeing this guy, are you? Seems I have a new buddy.

Scott and I had just walked in from getting groceries and looking out the kitchen window while unpacking, we saw this:

So willy nilly I grabbed my camera and headed downstairs to get a better view. There was actually a doe with him but she was back in the grasses. He headed across the marsh, in line with our willow tree and some brush, which gave me a great way to get to the very water's edge without being seen.

Of course, I was in a skirt and sandals and had no bug spray on but, come on, he was right there. So I knelt down and crawled underneath the willow (amazingly I did not get chiggers and I think I avoided poison ivy). He was very near but I was hoping to get some closeups so there was the little matter of full-out zoom at dusk with no tripod.

My only good option was to try to sit with the camera on my knee, in that colorful hippie skirt that was nothing like camouflage. Moving from a crawl position to getting my leg in front of me like a platform was not exactly a graceful process in the mud in a skirt, nor was it entirely silent. And yet, the buck seemed content to just watch me, munching on grass like he was at a mildly interesting movie with a bucket of popcorn.

"Fine, then. Screw the stealth techniques. If you are going to be all casual, then I'm just going to sit on the lawn."

And he was like, "Fine. Didn't your mother teach you not to stare though? Why don't you just take a picture or something? It will last longer."

 

And I was like, "Fine. Whatever. Maybe I just will."

And he was like, "Oh, okay, cool. Just make sure you get my best side."

(I should note: being taken by two surprise visits, and never guessing he would let me get so close, I'm not 100% happy with my shots yet.  I'm hoping, if he's going to make a habit of visiting, that he'll tolerate me trying to sneak a tripod out since he comes around a dusk and hand shake with my zoom is a definite issue. I'm not really sure how that will work, since I literally have to crawl under and around things to get the best angle but it will be a fun puzzle to solve. Maybe my mini tripod will be the answer. And one of the beauties of committing to this blog is that it motivates me to try to solve it.)

 

I Think I Have to Take This as a Sign

So, I am just three days into a commitment I made to myself to get my camera out every day. Day One? Well, a hummingbird photo bombed a flower shot . I thought that was a sign...kind of a 'thumbs up' from the Universe telling me I was on to something.

But just in case I wasn't paying attention, look who stopped by tonight and let me stand...six yards away maybe?...while he just went along his business.

I cannot tell you the last time I've seen a buck in our yard. We used to get them all the time...had a 10-pointer lay down for 2 hours right in our patch of woods, just outside our bedroom window. But that was years ago and aggressive culling in our area have cut down those sightings to almost nothing these days.

A young buck in velvet in our yard? If you told me it's been 12 years since I've seen one here, I would believe it.