Spring Fever. Cute Dog Photos.

It's a late spring, but it is a ravishingly beautiful one. Thanks to cold temperatures, the redbud has stayed abloom for what seems like weeks. Forsythia hung around forever, too, but now it's done in southern Ohio. A couple of times my rhubarb froze solid and dark, then thawed out and went on growing as if nothing had ever happened.   

I love it when the redbud hangs around until the dogwood comes out. Doesn't always work that way.

A haiku couplet from April 21:

Can rhubarb freeze dark

The leaves all crispy and still

Give up a nice pie?

The answer lies here

In the blue drooping lilac

The rime in the grass

Riddle of cruel Frost.

And the answer was yes. Though I'm more of a cobbler person. I throw it in with some apples nobody wants to eat, some strawberries, top it all with crumble, and then they fight over the last bit.

So we waited and waited for the hummingbirds, which usually arrive April 17. And when she settled on the front porch, managed to get a portrait of this little female, who looks as happy to see me as I am to see her. She was seven days late by my calendar, right on time by hers. If birds stuck to the calendar, they'd be dead. Better late than dead, right, Hum?

Thank you for the fresh nectar, Big Human. It is a nice substitute for honeysuckle in a pinch.

We have a blue jay thinking about nesting around our yard (psst: try the blue spruce!). He has a low rattling call that sounds like Paul doing the telephone on "Uncle Albert." Bill figured that out. Perfect. Bill caught him at it deep in a thicket and I got him in the telephoto. He makes us laugh. 

Brrrp brrp.  Brrrrp brrrp.

Hunting morels, with no success the first two times and a feast the second time,

 we came up on a pair of ovenbirds at the end of what used to be our orchard. I like the way they skulk softly over the leaves. If you listen closely you can hear their light footfalls. You can find them that way, by listening for their tracks.

While I was shooting this I was quietly asking Chet Baker to stay back so he wouldn't flush the bird. All I have to do is whisper "Stick around." 

So he whiled away the time by browsing. He'd eaten some bones the possums dragged out of the compost pit, and needed to clean out his guts. I've never seen him browse leaves off underbrush before. Like a goat, he was. Later he left the bone fragments, wrapped in leaves, on the forest floor. Dogs know how to fix what ails them. 

It also helps to upchuck on the bedspreads. I do that too.

Yes, you do. Twice, two beds. Way to go.

I like photographing this dog. If you haven't already figured it out, he likes it when I photograph him. 

He is Bulldog. He is Terrier. He is Invincible.

And very, very sweet.

We got spring fever here. Nothing for it but to keep going outside.

Bill and I will be immersed in spring at the New River Birding and Nature Festival this coming week, so if you don't hear from me, it's because I'm goin' all Zick on a bunch of festivalgoers. The Rain Crows will play on Saturday night. And our brand new CD, "Dream of Flying Dream," will be arriving in big boxes in Fayetteville, West Birdginia, and we'll get our first look at it. It's all a bit much, but it's exactly how we like it.