When you buy a house from a guy whose business card reads The Birdman, you kind of expect the backyard to reflect his passion. Sure ’nuff…
I don’t know if our property is an official Bird Sanctuary, but it oughta be.
And then, not more than half an hour after walking through the yard and taking these pics, Tara pointed out the window excitedly. “Is that a cardinal?!”
‘Twas a cardinal.
Here’s the thing. Other than three years in the late ’70s in Ohio, I have never lived anyplace where there were cardinals. And Tara spent most of her life out west, where they don’t exist. If you look at a habitat map, cardinals are really an eastern-half-of-the-country phenomenon.
Red birds are a novelty for both of us. You should have seen our reaction the first time we spotted a cardinal after moving to Wisconsin. We were, to put it mildly, quite animated. We love the fact that we have cardinals in our backyard now.
Living the dream, guys.
Speaking of geeking out, I finally got around to setting up my weather station today. Long story short: I have always been fascinated by weather and, as a kid–nerd alert!–I used to keep track of climate stats in a three-ring binder. I even thought about becoming a meteorologist, but one college course in my freshman year was enough to dissuade me of that notion. Meteorology is, of course, a science–and science is way too math-y for my blood. Writing it is, then!
But my interest in weather and climate have never waned. I was an official National Weather Service storm spotter for a few years in Vancouver, WA. One of my daily rituals is to read over the NWS’s very technical Area Forecast Discussion. It’s a narrative description of current, short-term, and long-term forecasts and trends based on physical observations and weather models. I’ve gotten to the point where I understand the jargon pretty well, too. A few years ago, in Rapid City, I invested in an actual weather station, which thrilled my stat-lovin’ heart. Breaking it down and boxing it up back in August was almost as hard as packing away our many lava lamps.
I said almost.
The nice thing about moving is, when you unpack, it’s like one jubilant extended Christmas morning as you discover things you haven’t seen in a long time (seven months, in this case). Just wait until I find our potato mashers! So when I came across my weather station, I figured it was time to set it up again.
Figuring out how and where to mount it was the biggest challenge. I’d had it U-bolted to a chain link fence in South Dakota, but we have nothing similar here. There was a perfect spot in the middle of the yard, on a little wooden fence next to some preexisting garden beds, out in the open with no trees or other obstructions. Through trial and error, I MacGyver’d myself a solution involving a metal flange, pipes, and painter’s tape. Go, me!
I would’ve used duct tape, but who knows where that is and I didn’t think to buy any from Ace Hardware. It’s probably in the same box as the elusive potato mashers.
As I was scouting out a location for the weather station this morning, I was surprised by a big, burly, mustachioed man in our yard. Turned out to be our neighbor, Brian, who wanted to introduce himself. Nice guy with a booming voice that kind of reminds me of Sam Elliot. He’s 62 and has lived in the neighborhood with his common-law wife, Linda, for 36 years. Was friends with Dick and helped him out quite a bit over the years. He’s also a fountain of knowledge and let us know about the abundant blueberries and peaches we can expect in our yard, not to mention asparagus(!); said the ponds are pretty low-maintenance and basically take care of themselves (whew!); and even offered to help us with lawn care if we need a hand.
“I have one rule in life,” he said. “Don’t be a dick and we’ll get along fine.”
That’s a motto I can live by, too. Brian’s my kind of people.
Mark My Words 
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