Trumpeter Swans

 

After spotting very large duck-like prints in the snow at a local marsh (my husband joked they were from a pterodactyl), we observed a lovely pair of Trumpeter Swans.  They were busy eating whatever vegetation they could find along the creek and eventually drifted in our direction.  It was such a treat to get a close up viewing.

There is still plenty of snow on the ground in our neck of the woods, but according to ebird.org, some migratory bird species have returned (goldeneye, Gadwalls, gulls, mergansers).  We've yet to go in search, but I hope to get out in the field more soon.  Some of these species only pass through on their route further north, and their time here is fleeting.  It's too early for Northern Pintails, Northern Shovelers, Arctic Terns, and yellowlegs but having daylight until 9 pm these days makes me hopeful for their return as well.   

Why does break up take so long?

Break up is the term Alaskans use for spring.  Despite living here for six years, I still yearn for spring on lower 48 terms.  More specifically, upstate New York spring that is usually a mixture of rain, sunny days warm enough to open windows, snow, skies the bleakest shades of grey, and then suddenly trees green up/bud and migratory birds return.  Here in Alaska, this all takes ages and ages.  Last year we had snow on the ground into May, and it seems this year will be much the same.  

So you can imagine my longing as I peruse blog posts by folks outside Alaska that are full of trees in bloom with fritillaries or snow drops or daffodils on the ground.  (While we're surrounded by dirty snow and pothole filled roads yet to be repaired.)  It's a type of cruelty to myself perhaps, but it also brings me a measure of joy and appreciation while stoking my pining for early summer - which is pretty much equivalent to spring where I grew up.  

Hooded Merganser drake

While waiting, I'll content myself with signs of seasonal change such as melting snow, increasing hours of daylight and hearing the heat kick on less often.  

It's been a spell

If you search online for quotes about change, you could easily find hundreds, even thousands of references.  You might view some as poignant or reflective or applicable to your own life.  Some might be inane or glib.  Some might make you laugh out loud while others bring you to tears.  Whatever your response, like it or not, as living beings we all go through change.  Years pass, phases come and go, interests shift.  It happens to all of us whether we embrace it or not, whether we are open to it or not. 

 

During periods of my 30s and 40s, I sometimes thought that I needed to cling to the things that made me happy (friends, habits, jobs, hobbies, etc.) because if things were good, why allow things to be different?  I could be pretty hard on myself if my gut/heart was telling me that something was no longer serving me while my mind was saying "you can't let ____ go!  You spent money/time/effort on ____!"  I would convince myself that if things remained status quo (assuming things were overall going well), well worn paths were worth my loyalty.  Clearly, I was afraid of change.

(This, of course, didn't exclude some new experiences or new knowledge because being of the world pretty much means novelty is always coming our way.  Additionally, the people in our lives are also going through their own chapters of revision.  Thus, the proverb 'the only constant in life is change' seems spot on.)

Now that I'm in my 50s, I actively try to worry less about change.  On some level I manage to embrace it.  Even when I'm feeling fearful, overwhelmed or vulnerable.  The processes of aging, grieving loss and acknowledging my limitations helps.  Remaining curious about the world helps, too.  Carrying on with practices that continue to bring joy is indispensable.  

The idea from that last sentence has brought me back to this blog.  I can hardly believe it has been years since I last posted. Looking for things to photograph and taking the time to put my thoughts down was an enjoyable practice.  It made me pay attention to details and enhanced my motivation to get out into natural spaces.  So why did I let it fall away? 

Well, a lot has happened since June of 2021 - both in a wider, planetary context and certainly in my own life.  My mom went into a nursing home in late 2021 and passed away unexpectedly and quickly eight months later.  Just seven months afterward, my older sister (and my oldest friend) died the day before her 52nd birthday, mere weeks after being diagnosed with metastatic cancer.  Shortly thereafter, we lost my Aunt Barb.  

While in the process of mourning, it can be near impossible to find joy or practice gratitude or just not feel numb.  These last few years have been a whirlwind and held some of the saddest days of my life, frankly.  Yet somehow there is a feeling of late that I've gotten through the worst parts of grief.  I don't know that it will ever be fully resolved, but my spirit feels less weighed down by my sorrow.  So I'm hoping to photograph and write more often.  To actively look for birds, mushrooms, sweet cat moments, eye-catching landscapes, crafty things, etc., etc. and post about them.  I hope whomever bothers to read this will also find something worthwhile.