Poetry Sunday: March by William Cullen Bryant

Yes, I'm still tinkering with the look of the blog!

We are almost halfway through "stormy March." So far it hasn't really lived up to that name here in Southeast Texas, although we have had plenty of clouds and wind. But it looks like the days ahead may help March recover its reputation for changeableness. According to forecasts, winter may be with us for one more day, tomorrow, but then spring arrives a few days early on Tuesday. William Cullen Bryant appreciated the unloved month and even wrote an ode to it.  

March 

by William Cullen Bryant

The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies,

I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.

Ah, passing few are they who speak,
Wild stormy month! in praise of thee;
Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
Thou art a welcome month to me.

For thou, to northern lands, again
The glad and glorious sun dost bring,
And thou hast joined the gentle train
And wear’st the gentle name of Spring.

And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day,
When the changed winds are soft and warm,
And heaven puts on the blue of May.

Then sing aloud the gushing rills
And the full springs, from frost set free,
That, brightly leaping down the hills,
Are just set out to meet the sea.

The year’s departing beauty hides
Of wintry storms the sullen threat;
But in thy sternest frown abides
A look of kindly promise yet.

Thou bring’st the hope of those calm skies,
And that soft time of sunny showers,
When the wide bloom, on earth that lies,
Seems of a brighter world than ours.

This week in birds - #669

 A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment:

These are a pair of Northern Emerald-Toucanets, a bird found in parts of southern Mexico and into Central America. It is a bird of forested habitats and it eats mostly fruit. They are nonmigratory and the population size is really unknown but it is thought to be decreasing. Its main threat is loss of habitat through deforestation. It is the American Bird Conservancy's Bird of the Week. 

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It has been a hot month so far in the Southwest. Heat records could be toppled in various places.

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Death Valley National Park is full of life - specifically wildflowers that are blanketing the park in the most breathtaking bloom seen there in a decade.

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Whooping Cranes are among the most closely tracked and monitored birds in North America. We almost lost them in the last century and we don't want that to happen again. We are still learning about how they utilize their habitat.

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So it looks like the controversial weedkiller Roundup will be on the market again, thanks to an executive order from the president.

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The government of Ecuador is attempting to silence defenders of the environment by shuttering their bank accounts.

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El Niño is likely coming this summer and may bring severe weather with it.

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Did the ancient Egyptians invent Wite-Out?

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The endangered lemurs of Madagascar love the strawberry guava but the fruit is choking the island's forests.

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As war rages in the Persian Gulf, Iran's supply of fresh water is at risk.

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What is under the oldest trees on Earth? Inquiring minds wanted to know so scientists looked.

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Baroness is a python and she is the longest snake ever measured at 23.5 feet long.

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A rare white whale has been spotted and photographed off the coast of Mexico. Whatever would Captain Ahab think?

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Bumblebees are remarkable creatures but the fact that the queens can survive underwater for a week may be one of the most amazing things about them.

Trout lilies

The trout lilies are blooming by my little backyard pond. Spring is on the way!

 

Poetry Sunday: Today by Billy Collins

It isn't quite spring yet but today (Saturday) was just the kind of day that Billy Collins wrote about in this poem. Let's hope we have a few more of them before our long, hot summer sets in.

Today 

by Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw

open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,

indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths

and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight

that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight

on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants

from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,

holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,

well, today is just that kind of day.

This week in birds - #668

 A roundup of the week's news of birds and the environment:

The Monarchs are on their way! I haven't seen any yet but others in my area here in Southeast Texas have reported seeing them. I will be on the lookout and I need to get my milkweed plants in the ground to welcome them.

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Daylight saving time is coming for most of us whether we like it or not. It arrives at 2:00 a.m. on Sunday so let's prepare as best we can.

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A report on the health of Nature in the United States was killed by the president but it has now been released independently, and the good news about that is there actually is some good news!

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The Potomac River, once seriously polluted, had been deemed safe from sludge more recently but then a sewer pipe broke and dumped human waste into it.

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There's potential good news on the California Condor front and goodness knows it's about time we had some. Wildlife biologists in California believe a pair of the birds is tending the first egg laid in the state's northern region in more than a century. This is still unconfirmed but our fingers are crossed.

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Peer pressure may play a part even in the world of clownfish. Babies typically have two or three of those vertical white stripes but by the time they reach adulthood they are down to just one and scientists now believe that is a result of social pressure. 

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What was the origin of the wood that was used by Antonio Stradivari to make his famous violins? A study of the tree rings found in the wood may provide the answer.

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Ants are very interesting critters with complex social structures and societies. A new technology called Antscan allows us to see them like never before. 

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People pay a lot of money to be able to see jaguars in the wild. They are a Brazilian tourist attraction. 

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One of NASA's missions is to work to protect the planet from deadly asteroids.

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A brutal winter has played havoc with the floating oyster farm systems on the East Coast. If you enjoy oysters, you may find them in short supply this summer.

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This picture of a pronghorn antelope is one of fifteen recent photographs from Yellowstone National Park, the nation's first park.

Poetry Sunday: The Bridge by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was one of the first poets I learned to like as a child when I was just beginning to appreciate poetry. He was easy enough to understand unlike some other poets, and I liked how his poems progressed in a logical way. In my search for a poem to feature this week I came across this one that I vaguely remembered from those early years and immediately recognized that my search had ended.

The Bridge

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I stood on the bridge at midnight, 

As the clocks were striking the hour,
And the moon rose o'er the city,
Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection

   In the waters under me,

Like a golden goblet falling

   And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance

   Of that lovely night in June,

The blaze of the flaming furnace

   Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long, black rafters

   The wavering shadows lay,

And the current that came from the ocean

   Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,

   Rose the belated tide,

And, streaming into the moonlight,

   The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing

   Among the wooden piers,

A flood of thoughts came o’er me

   That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, O, how often,

   In the days that had gone by,

I had stood on that bridge at midnight

   And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, O, how often,

   I had wished that the ebbing tide

Would bear me away on its bosom

   O’er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,

   And my life was full of care,

And the burden laid upon me

   Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

   It is buried in the sea;

And only the sorrow of others

   Throws its shadow over me.

Yet whenever I cross the river

   On its bridge with wooden piers,

Like the odor of brine from the ocean

   Comes the thought of other years.

And I think how many thousands

   Of care-encumbered men,

Each bearing his burden of sorrow,

   Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession

   Still passing to and fro,

The young heart hot and restless,

   And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,

   As long as the river flows,

As long as the heart has passions,

   As long as life has woes;

The moon and its broken reflection

   And its shadows shall appear,

As the symbol of love in heaven,

   And its wavering image here.