Six miles, Twenty One Goldfinches

Okay, I confess. Spring is over, summer is here. I wasn't ready for it, but so be it. I know, I know. Summer is far more than here.

It's the signs that I cannot deny. Seems like yesterday, the squadrons of red-wing blackbirds keeping watch over their nests were out in force to advise me on past and away. The flowers, "purples and whites" as I know them, were abounding along Old Cass Road. They are gone, long gone. Red columbine, the beautiful lanterns, now few and faded, their light dimming away. And the Chicory. So much blue-lavender Chicory with their rooster-combed petal-ends. Now just a little, and curling up for the last time this year. Daylilies, orange and bold, goodbye for now.

Oswego Tea asserts itself in the stead of the waning spring players. They will hold court into early fall. Don't say fall. I'm not ready for that.

Don't get me wrong, I had a good run. And I was treated to something I really thought I wouldn't see for another 10/12ths of a year. Goldfinches. I had seen several throughout the spring mornings, and then just didn't for a while. But this evening, wow. As I approached the house in the last hundred yards or so, there in the lower field, amongst their favorite thistles and powerlines above, I counted no less than 21 goldfinches, about 5 females and the rest males. I had never seen that many at once before.

I was glad to see the yellow and black ensemble. They made me feel, just for a moment, that there was more time to spring, a second chance to start or finish some of those springtime tasks one always hopes to. But I don't know what those tasks are or were. So I suppose it's no big deal.

Fine.

Summer it is then. Better late than never.

DF