Grey and Blue

I took piano lessons as a little girl, and many of the very first John Thompson lesson book song lyrics are still embedded in my memory. Lyrics such as,

Papa Haydn's dead and gone

But his mem'ry lingers on.

When his mood was one of bliss

He wrote merry tunes like this.

This, of course, was written to the tune of Haydn's "Surprise Symphony." (Significantly simplified.)

There are other songs (I could sing of Volga Boatmen, Rowing Merrily Along and Wigwams all day), but the piece that came to mind yesterday was the very staccato:

Pit-ter pat-ter goes the rain

On the trees and flow'rs.

Pit-ter pat-ter goes the rain

For so many hours.

(Oh, how I used to draw out the whole note "flow'rs" and "hours," rhyming them as I crooned so that they sounded more like "flahrs" and " 'ahrs.")

Well, we finally got our "pitter patter" in earnest yesterday. The sky was grey and foreboding as I stepped outside, but since there was only a drizzle I figured I had timed my jaunt well. 

In many respects it was well timed. I got to see the Great Blue Heron soar overhead and then land . . . on my neighbor's roof. Also, there were about half a dozen geese gliding across the pond. (I hadn't seen them since Avery last recorded them.)

And then the real rains came. I picked up my pace and glanced toward the floating birds. They didn't mind the rain one bit. They actually seemed to welcome it. I welcomed it at first because I was curious to see how my new rain jacket would fare. It did extremely well. My pants? Not so much. Aidan kindly brought me a towel when I sloshed my way in through the front door. 

It was a Jekyll and Hyde weekend, for today was mild and pleasant. The skies were blue overhead as I took a quick wetlands walk with half of the family ("and our little dog, too"). There are still spots of color where the Queen Anne's Lace, clover, and daisies refuse to stop their flowering. (Dear "flahrs.") 

The trees were noticeably more bare today after the winds and rains of yesterday, which made me pay close attention to the treasures tucked among the branches. (Although the Hawthorn tree doesn't look much different yet, I did spy a wee home. Can you see it?)  

I'll have to be on the lookout for more nests as the trees continue to lose their leafy coverings in both the grey and the blue days to come.