wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.

Monthly Archives: March 2023


by 45 Comments

My Laziness Pays Off

These chickadees and the nuthatch at the feeders were not there today. This picture was taken on another day. It is perhaps lucky that I’ve been lazy about refilling the feeder these past three sunny days. With the feeders empty today, there were no birds nearby when the visitor swooped in like a harrier jet this afternoon.

Except he was not a harrier; he was a Cooper’s hawk. He sat on the fence, wondering why there were no birds at the feeder.

Maybe they’re hiding in the shrubbery below the feeder.

Disappointed, he flew away to check out the neighbours’ birdfeeders.


by 25 Comments

Drumming Up Business

This flicker likes my chimney. It’s a perfect drum for establishing territory, possibly for protecting nearby nesting areas. She was here doing the same thing a year ago. How do I know it’s a “she”? The male red-shafted flickers have a red moustache slash. The females do not.

She hears another flicker and answers the call and then drums to assert her right to the territory.

 

 

And speaking of drumming up business, please visit my other blog site, annelisplace for everything related to books, reading, and writing. https://annelisplace.wordpress.com/2023/03/28/say-youll-come/


by 34 Comments

When the Swallows Come Back…

This is the time of year when the swallows come back to Capistrano. The Mission San Juan Capistrano has been a destination for a migration of cliff swallows since the early 1800s.

These swallows winter in Argentina and then migrate north about 6000 miles to California or even farther, but the Mission San Juan Capistrano being the tallest building around that area in those early days, was a destination for the swallows who were looking for a place to make their mud nests.

When I was in Mexico in February of 2007, I saw these swallows sitting on the overhead wires. I’m not sure if they are the cliff swallows that were enroute to California (the timing would have been right) or if they are barn swallows. They look very similar, and of course it was dark when I took these pictures.

The sidewalk below, was a dangerous place to walk, as I found out when I reached my rented bungalow and took off my blue velour jacket which was now covered with whitish splats. I seem to remember having to wash my hair too.

But look at these guys! They’re all facing the same way, except one or two. There is always one who travels to a different drum (second wire down).  I see another one on the bottom wire. Just above him is a little guy who was trying to tell him to turn around, and nearly lost his balance himself.

But the most unlucky fellow was the owner of this vehicle who had made the mistake of parking under the wires. Thankfully, it’s not mine.

He’d be looking for a car wash in the morning.


by 50 Comments

Nervous Water Fun

I’m a tourist, and I play,

Just a fool on holiday,

Yes, I saw the crododiles,

On the beach, back several miles.

Goodness gracious, says the fish,

Lady thinks she’s such a dish,

Well, she could be, for a croc,

Hope she doesn’t get a shock.

Don’t go scaring her too much,

Obviously out of touch,

She’s more worried ’bout the shark,

That is lurking in the dark.

 

It’s a quiet day, you know,

No need to alarm her so,

Did you see her splash in fear,

When that seaweed strand came near?

 

Where she came from there’s no sun,

And she has no swimming fun,

Not this early in the season,

She’s just nervous for no reason.

 

Don’t you kid yourself on that,

I attack in seconds flat,

But I’d rather wait ’til night,

Then I’ll take a hefty bite.

 

Hee, hee, hee! Hee, hee, hee!

Guess what is inside of me,

Best be careful in the sea,

And don’t snorkel near to me.

That was such a tasty snack,

Sun feels good upon my back,

I’ll be lazy for a while,

Says the grinning crocodile.


by 35 Comments

Bran Muffins Plus

I’ve made these muffins a few times now, and  find they are very forgiving, so I get braver each time.

This time I’ve added cranberries, coconut, pecans, and dates to the main recipe, but you don’t have to do that. You probably could add a lot of other things instead, if you felt adventurous. If you have a nut allergy, of course you would leave out the nuts. Just put in what you feel like adding.

The bottom line is, they are very easy to make and taste great.

The basic recipe is at the bottom of the page.

The loaf tin has hardly anything in it, but that’s where I always put the extra batter I have left over. Nothing is ever wasted.

Bran Muffins (Basic Recipe)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a big bowl, mix:

2 cups flour

2 cups bran

1 and 1/4 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

3/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut (optional)

1 cup chopped nuts (optional)

1 cup raisins (optional)

I add the cranberries and dates to the measuring cup with the wet ingredients (below), mainly so the flour doesn’t stick to them and make white lumps in the batter.

1 cup cranberries (optional –  I use frozen cranberries that I thawed out in a small measuring cup with hot water – drain the water, of course)

1 cup chopped dates (optional, but really good)

In a big measuring cup:

2 cups milk with the juice of half a lemon

1 egg (lightly beaten and added to milk)

1/2 cup molasses

About 3 Tbsp. melted butter (use it to brush the muffin tin and the loaf tin and add the rest of the butter to the liquid.

***

Add liquid ingredients to dry ones in the bowl and mix as much as you need to, the less the better.

Fill muffin tin to about the top of each “cup” and pour the leftover batter into the loaf tin. The batter will be a bit on the runny side.

Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes.

** The muffins will get higher if you add fewer of the optional ingredients, but the texture still came out good even with all the heavy things I added.

If you don’t have molasses in the house, you could probably substitute a half cup of brown sugar and put it into the bowl with the dry ingredients.

Best enjoyed with a friend visiting, but tastes great all alone too.


by 54 Comments

Pancho the Parrot

Pancho the parrot’s a bird with two lives,

A town bird, and yet, in the jungle he thrives.

His base in the cafe is safe in a storm,

But in the wild jungle he flies in fine form.

Customers interest him, tourists abound,

Mama Lupita is glad he’s around,

Guests love to see him and come back for more,

Internet clients pour in through the door.

Pancho the parrot has seen many things,

He wonders if this hand might have shiny rings.

If it comes closer, he’ll give it a nip,

It might be such fun just to hear that man yip.

Bored with his perch at the cyber cafe,

He flies to the jungle to have a buffet.

A mango, banana, papaya, or lime,

He knows where to find fruits that taste so sublime.

Daylight is fading, and Pancho is tired,

Morning is gone when he felt so inspired,

Time to return to the cyber cafe,

Lupita is hoping that he is okay.

Watching and waiting as daylight grows dim,

She prays every day, nothing’s happened to him.

He flies from the wire and lands on her hand,

As bird mothers go, she’s the best in the land.

 

He grips her hand tightly, and she does the same,

Holding his toes as she whispers his name.

“My Pancho, I love you, let’s get in the car,

We’ll drive home and get those good seeds from the jar.”

 

PS.  I believe Pancho is a lilac-crowned parrot.


by 42 Comments

Windy Days

“Wow! Will ya look at the birdfeeders swinging sideways!

And what gives with all the birds making themselves at home in MY home?

There must be a hundred of them parked in all the entrances to my hidey-holes in the woodshed. Zoom on in and look at the pieces of wood. Nearly every piece is occupied.

Oh, well. They’re just trying to get out of the wind too. I suppose I can always sneak in the back door if need be.”

 

 

Grab a bite of seeds to eat,

Head for cover quick.

Hope the gusts will not unseat,

Gripping tight’s the trick.

Every chunk of wood is used,

As a ledge to sit,

With this wind we’re so abused,

Flying branches hit.

Siskin! Better hang on tight,

To that swaying feed,

Hope that you will be all right,

And no help you’ll need.


by 38 Comments

Paradise Lost (Poem not for little children)

A long time ago, I took this picture from my bedroom window.

A young deer felt quite at home, and the pheasant in the background was one of about nine who did the daily rounds of our place. I felt like I lived in paradise.

Now, 31 years later, subdivisions have sprung up half a mile down the road and the horde of people who want their dogs to poop somewhere away from their own yard comes here to walk where there are still a few trees standing. That alone wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t dislike people and I love dogs (and cats and all sorts of animals), but when the dog walking came to our neighbourhood, many dog owners thought that once they left the cement and asphalt of their subdivision, it was okay to unhook their dogs and let them tear around in rural properties.

If I didn’t want my garden torn up, I would have to build a fence.

Sadly the deer can’t come in to wander through the yard anymore, and the pheasants and many quail we used to see have all become victims of unleashed dogs, stray cats, and the loss of habitat.

We still have trees and lots of shrubs for cover, so songbirds and little animals still come here. I don’t mind people walking by with their dogs on a leash; many of them are very pleasant, friendly, and considerate. Others are more self-centered. After virtue-signaling that they pick up their dog’s poop,  they wait until no one sees, and fling the used poop bags into the shrubbery or into my yard.

I’m uncomfortable listening to personal conversations being shouted between two people walking together, or bellowed into the phones of people walking solo. I don’t need to know how much their last massage cost or that their credit card was rejected when they tried to pay for it.

I don’t understand why some of the people who visit our neighbourhood can’t enjoy the quiet of nature. Why are they so loud and rude? Why is it all about them?

Among the walkers who are considerate of people living nearby, are a few intrusive women between the age of 25 to 50, many of them behaving like teenagers. This small segment of society seems to be working hard to be noticed. I see them around town, in the grocery stores, in traffic, everywhere.

Yes, I believe in women’s rights. Very much so. But I believe in all people’s rights. No single group deserves more attention or privileges than another.

This special breed of women has inspired the muse in me today.

 

Me, Me, Me.

 

I’m important, don’t you see?

Everything is all ’bout me.

 “Likes” on facebook overflow,

Watch  my popularity grow.

 

When I walk for exercise,

I soak up admiring eyes,

With my leggings up my crack,

Men’s attention doesn’t lack.

 

When I drive I spare no thought,

If it is my turn or not.

They’ll back off and let me pass,

‘Cuz the right goes to the lass.

 

Ringing phone, who can it be?

There’s so many who love me.

I’ll be loud ’cause I am free,

And it’s all ’bout me, me, me.

 

It’s my right to cross on red,

You must wait, I go ahead,

All the world revolves ’round me,

I’m so special, me, me, me.

 

 

 

 

 


by 36 Comments

Quilting Retreat

The view from the lodge where we have the quilting retreat is gorgeous, even with snow, which always seems to hit us for the February retreat.

Inside the lodge, in the new section (below),  quilters have their machines set up at the far end and tables are set up for meals at the closer end. See the buffet-style serving area in the middle by the posts.

Next to the new part is the older section of the lodge, with carpet instead of hardwood flooring. The quilters on this side are closer together, but they each have their stations that they use every time they come to a retreat. The banter and chatter is cozy and friendly, and the quilters share new ideas.

Some of their finished products are hung on the railing of the loft. Sometimes just the flimsy (the top of an unfinished quilt) is hung up, and the less creative finishing work is done later, at home.

More quilts.

My project of fish placemats was very time consuming and I haven’t finished them yet, but I’ll post them when I get them done.

When I came home, I had a short (maybe 10-minute) ferry ride from Quadra Island to Vancouver Island, but the sky and sea were all one snow-filled mass. See the bits of snow still sitting on the roofs of other vehicles? I took this picture from inside my truck.

Looking out one of the ferry’s side windows, I could see the white caps blowing off the tops of the waves. The ferry swayed side to side as it battled the pull of the tide near Seymour Narrows while the wind blew in the opposite direction.

I had a white-knuckle 45-minute drive home on a snowy highway once I got off the ferry, but I felt safe in my truck, and was glad we had invested in good tires.