Robin Practices Spring

Winter has now passed in Maine, though at our place we still have snow here and there, including a respectable snowbank at the end of the driveway.

As a certified bird call fanatic, I listen every spring for the first robin's full song. It was two days ago that I heard it, full volume. But a few days before that, I heard and watched a robin 'practice' the spring call.

It was in the afternoon. I had taken a break from my long hours of desk work, and strolled out to our little farm pond, listening for any signs of the robins' song. And wouldn't you know, a very rotund robin with a bright red breast (perhaps a Canadian robin who wintered down here), sat on the fence rail on the far side of the pond. He or she was all puffed out. The next day we were expecting the last snowfall of the season. I must say I was a little down, wishing for it all to be done and for spring to start.

As I stood still, afraid to frighten it, this little robin started clucking, but at a very quiet volume. The bird seemed like it was practicing all its calls, the warning 'chip chip', some other little cheeps, but very quietly. Then it even started up its full song, but so quiet I could hardly hear it. I kept watching the bird to see if it might be coming from another bird far away, but no. This bird was literally practicing its spring call. Perhaps it, like me, was worried that it would be 'bad luck' to declare it spring just yet. It seemed like it was puffed up with the joy of spring, but was holding it back until the time was right.

This morning, I stepped out near dawn and was overwhelmed with an orchestra of robins in the forests all around. Later, a flock of raucous red-winged blackbirds came through. And the juncoes seem to have left, save a few stragglers. So it's here at last.

Maybe there's a lesson in the practice of spring. Maybe we all need to do it!

Oh Well and Oh My

So perhaps it's a function of getting older, but for whatever reason, I don't enjoy browsing in antique stores the way I used to. I used to love to soak up the atmosphere, listen to the classical music playing and the store owner's banter with customers. I browsed in slow motion, the way a heron wades in a stream looking for fish. I'd stop to look at 80% of the things on display, and I'd seriously consider buying things.

Now, I look for things that are new to me, in an antique way of course. Last week, the day after we spent a lovely Thanksgiving in Maine with dear friends, we stopped at an antique barn on Route 1 near Wiscasset. It was one of those places with many many dealers. The best ones specialize. There was one person who sold antique postcards, categorized by state. Another sold antique tools. Yet there was little else of interest and I found myself cruising through the entire building, my eye only caught by something unusual. My favorite thing was a 'cookie corner' chest of drawers from the early 1800's. The inside of the drawers were made of hardwood, and all the joints were extremely well made.  Then there were some nice rustic cider jugs. But aside from that, I could have left within ten minutes. I obliged my husband's interest in a slow perusal, which gave me a chance to notice more.

It was the art that finally got to me. Antique shops always seem to have an oversupply of old prints or original artwork that was never of gallery quality. Certainly there is a chance one might come upon a hidden masterpiece, but in New England, in the 'antique barn' type places, it's hard to find decent art. I really wonder who buys those old paintings. Maybe people collect them. To me, the value for money equation doesn't match up. I left the antique barn with a feeling of "Oh well."

Fortunately, there are plenty of living artists in Maine (and all over New England) who make their work available for reasonable prices. Earlier in the day we had visited the Tidemark Gallery in Waldoboro, and I was really taken by the paintings of Audrey Bechler on display there. Here is a sample of her work and you can link to her website here.  When I left the gallery, which is set up in a very small house (as opposed to a huge barn), my feelings were more like, "Oh my!"