Two of my friends recently bought a house on a river “up north,” about two and a half hours from my place. They call it “the postcard,” and it certainly punts you immediately from City Mode to Country Mode.
They have two perfect little docks, and a huge rambling house with room for kids and work and wood-working and Life. Coffee on the deck, looking at the birds they lure in with feeders everywhere.
Saturday brought the delight of a pileated woodpecker whacking away at the tree just across the property line.
It was a life bird for me.
Sunday was waffles and bacon on the deck while we watched red-breasted nuthatches, black-capped chickadees, robins, house finches, chipping sparrows, squirrels and hairy and downy woodpeckers absurdly close on the feeders.
This hairy was about four feet away to me, comfortably filling his bill.
The morning mist as the river steamed off the winter was magical, forming at one point a set of shapes that looked like a ghostly battalion.
Hard to wrest myself away to come home.