April sunshine

Startling in its intensity is April sunshine.  I'm beginning to feel like spring has arrived and with it, today, a warbler in one of the maple trees.  Not a leaf in sight yet, but the wee warbler was singing his heart out.  I wish I knew more about birds so I could identify this earnest little critter by his song.  I sat in a lawn chair, in sunshine, drinking a coffee and listening to him. Eventually found where he was perched and could see the swelling tiny breast as it prepared to give voice again and again.  Is this courting behaviour I wonder? Would it work for me?  What would I have to sing?

I'm knitting a pair of socks with a 3/3 cable pattern and moss stitch between the cables.  This pattern is fun, though not precisely fast.  

Still no word on how I'm going to recharge my digital camera battery or even how soon I might know about that.  And of course there's suddenly so much to photograph--buds on the cherry, peach and pear trees and the magnolia.  The daphne is in full bloom.  The roses are waking up. We had a good soaking rain on Friday and so the grass is greening rapidly.  Today I saw the rhubarb budding through the soil and the first fronds of lovage.  I need time to do some pruning and digging, but had to work today to prepare for a meeting tomorrow, so that didn't happen.  Soon though, soon.

Last night I went to C's house to drink wine, nibble cheese and work.  It has been rather a work focused weekend.  I didn't get home until after midnight, which is late enough for me, but will have been tough for her with a 6ish wake up call from her toddlers.  Neither of us noticed how late it was getting, we just kept plugging away at what we had to do.

As I was leaving C said, watch out for wildlife because in the past I've encountered deer on her road.  Last night I sighted something much more terrifying--a rubber chicken.  Now I don't know any more than you, what a rubber chicken is doing on the road at midnight in this town.  I can only imagine it was tossed out of a party and didn't have the wherewithal to umm, cross the road.  Trust yours truly to find the only post-partying rubber chicken in the country.  And, because I know you're all thinking it--I did NOT have that much wine, for between us we did not drink half the bottle in three hours.

I think I will go knit on my cable sock and meditate on the meaning of rubber chickens flaked out on the road at midnight.  There must be something important to glean from this, eh what?