Call of the Crane

Sandhill cranes, my favorite harbingers of seasonal change, have started their migration north. Scores of them winter each year at the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge located about a hundred miles south of where I live. 

I heard those unmistakable sounds

The calls of the sandhill crane

They pierced the cool February winds

Winter would not long remain

I scanned the blue sky with shielded eyes

To watch their northbound campaign

They clustered in small scattered squadrons

Strung out like a daisy chain

I smiled at the sight of their flights

With a pleasure tinged with pain

They sang of the passage of seasons

A raucous haunted refrain

Candlemas Day 2024

Today is February 2nd. In the U.S. we call it Groundhog Day. In England, it is known as Candlemas Day. There is an old English saying: 

"If Candlemas Day be fair and bright
Winter will have another flight
But if Candlemas Day be clouds and rain
Winter is gone and will not come again."

If that saying and the Groundhog legend are true, we should be heading for spring weather as I awoke to rain that is expected to continue most of the day.

Whatever it says on the calendar, February 2nd will always be special to me because it is my mother's birthday and this year would be her 100th birthday.

Claire Pickering

She passed away just shy of her 50th birthday when I was age sixteen. I miss her still and always will, every day in every way. Almost two decades ago, I wrote the following poem that still rings true today.

My Mother’s Daughter

I am my mother’s daughter
Cut from the same bolt of cloth
I’ve lived the life of her dreams
While she lived the dreams I’ve lost

 

As I approach the age
At which she died so young
I feel the circle is complete
Our two lives have made a whole one

Portrait photos of each of us as young women.