Juniper project cont’d May 2019

Michael Coopers Studio

It was February 2017 When I discovered this great untidy Juniper at the back of the yard at a nursery, long neglected and left by the previous owner and just waiting to be revived.

The story that followed can be recapped on my blog pages sprinkled throughout my
bonsai achives section

I am now at this stage (below)and wondering what I should have in mind for the futuresdr     May 2019

Not a techy by any means I have managed to play around with the Paint.Net a free software programme and eventually arrived with the following image which might be somehting to aim for .What do you think?sdr

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THE SUDDEN FLASH OF SHIMMERING WINGS

Towheeblog

We don’t keep a nectar feeder so hummers are only occasional in our garden.  This morning our still-blooming trio of penstemons were visited by a male Anna’s.  Those plants will  likely bloom on until the first hard frost so we can hope he’ll be buzzing back.

Last night a local birder told me she had siskins at her feeders, and images to prove it.  Maybe this means we will have another siskin winter.  Last year: nada.  Two winters ago they out-numbered even the starlings.

There was a flock of Barn Swallows at Joe Dancer this morning.  Don’t they have tickets to their wintering ground?

The one sound we hear daily in our garden is the annoyed honking of the Red-breasted Nuthatches.  When two arrive they dislike one another.  At one point a bright male landed on a platform full of American Goldfinches.  He looked down his sharp beak, perhaps thinking…

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THIS VOID HAS MEANING

Towheeblog

Sometimes a void is just nothing, a vacancy means nada.  Today, Nora the dog and I were taking our morning walk at Joe Dancer.  Blue sky, sun but not too warm, windless and cloudless.  Far off at the other end of the soccer fields was a single mowing machine running circles and back-and-forth.  The void?  No swallows.  Gone are those elegant aerialists who zig-zag at three times mower speed, catching insects sent fleeing  by the loud, vicious blade cutting grass.  I may not see another swallow at Joe Dancer until next April.  Faretheewell, Hirundo.

Later on, we walked along the edge of riverside woods.  A Townsend’s chipmunk scrambled into the tangle of a newly fallen oak.  He stopped on a horizontal log and watched us.  I think it was a youngster.  The curiosity for us was palpable. Nora and I were both wearing our blue jackets.  I suspect the young…

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