What I was going to share before I got waylaid was the early buds of the cherry tree that I admire from The Urban Porch.

I was going to share in the annual thrill of cotton candy glory. It was brief – a frost turned them to brown almost immediately.

I never even got to spend time amidst the magnolias. I wanted to share the clump of violets by my front path.

and Muscari running rampant beneath the maple tree.

The usual rando tulip.

But they are faded and gone now.

The days had been gorgeous. Sitting out on the porch with Little Rudi provided entertainment and wonder. I don’t know why Turkey Vultures keep popping up into my view, but after seeing a migrating flock of them a few weeks ago, they have returned. There was one high above, slowly wheeling around in the sky. I observed in sort of a lazy meditative zone-out as it went around….around….

A second suddenly dropped in from overhead and the two began to circle each other in dance. I’m sorry they are out of focus.

Then another, also dropping in from atop, created a swirling threesome.

And then they were all there, rotating like witches stirring brew, until they moved off on a thermal, out of view.

A day later I found a battered primary wing feather on my front lawn.

And the following day yet another on the porch steps. I wonder if they know you are watching them the same way the crows do.

After that I kept seeing Turkey Vultures everywhere, even when nowhere near home. They were either sailing high in the sky above the highway or standing on the side of the road in macabre silhouette, waiting for cars to pass so they could retrieve some roadkill. I guess this is The Season of the Turkey Vulture (Cathartes aura, aka buzzard or carrion crow). I looked up some spiritual meanings, which point to Transformation. Well in a weird way there is some of that going on, but right now what is happening (as usual) is the beginning of an earworm:

All along the mountains of the moon
Hi ho the carrion crow, fol de rol de de riddle
Hi ho the carrion crow, bow and bend to me

There was a daytime crescent moon above when all this was happening.

Since then the moon has already moved past full, a full Flower Moon. I usually stand out in the dark and attempt to take a photo of the full moon every month – a futile attempt as my camera never does it justice and I end up with blurry blobs. But this month I was indisposed.

Moving into the “now,” a squirrel has left remnants of its meal on the porch stairs

with more left balanced on the railing.

We are in full spring swing, despite some unpredictable weather. This year my extended family is not keeping bees but instead raising a small flock of Pekin ducks, which have been quite entertaining – and messy. I get the duck report daily.

Without even leaving the porch, the gorgeous Dogwood flowers can be admired from the new faux wicker chair upon which I am planted. Being planted in this chair might be most of the planting that will occur here this spring.

A cheery pop of Ground Phlox spreads along the front steps in welcome.

The Lily of the Valley has opened, emitting wafts of perfume.

I was going to share how just a week ago I was lazily basking in the afternoon light on The Urban Porch, admiring the way the sun lit up the different stones in my bracelets, noticing how those colors reflected the embroidery in my shirt – small details which felt so pleasing and peaceful.

But I never got around to sitting down to write it. Here we are (dog and I) in the early morning chill yesterday, out on the porch waiting to receive a couple of dozen eggs from the local women I usually buy eggs from. With a walker, in case you missed that.

I have some things to say about this event, but would like to let the dust settle and put a little distance out from it. In the meantime, Rudi and I are hanging out on the bed upstairs, window wide open in the late afternoon, a delicious and somewhat sweet breeze drifting across us. Newly opened Japanese Maple leaves display various crimson shades beneath the dappled sunlight, swaying lazily back and forth in the wind.

Maybe in a day or two (or more) I will be back to share further thoughts and adventures.

~*~

*Mountains of the Moon – by Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia/Grateful Dead, Aoxomoxoa 1969