I awoke with no alarm shortly after 5am today. A few stray beams of light crept into our bedroom at the edge of curtains and blinds, set to birdsong that was cheerful chaos.
A chimney cap came off in a storm, so the Mockingbird that considers our house its territory likes to sing atop the chimney for maximum amplification within our home. The endearing vanity of it reminds me of my daughter with the toy microphone my father gifted her years ago.
This morning's bike ride was an accelerated opportunity for birdwatching. A cursory inventory of the species seen or heard on my hour-long ride:
- Peacock (introduced colonies from 100 years ago still thrive in the area!)
- California towhee
- Spotted towhee (heard)
- Cooper's hawk
- Scrub jay (heard)
- American Crow
- Allen's hummingbird
- Goldfinch
- Northern mockingbird
When I am leaning toward my introverted side, seeing these regulars is like stopping to chat with neighbors - it makes me feel part of a community.
The neighbors continue to stop in to greet me, mourning doves flocking to the branches of a nectarine tree outside my office window.
The house finches, males decked out in red and orange breeding plumage, who nest in the eaves of our home.
The flowers are out in force as well, entire hillsides green from the storms giving way to pink from ice plant or gold from wild mustard. The record rains have carpeted southern California in color. I pay state tax for beauty and weather, and today it feels like I'm getting the deal of a lifetime.
A bike ride spent paying attention to small details, followed by breakfast, a strong cup of coffee, and an hour on a sofa reading the latest New Yorker magazine - it's hard to imagine greater abundance.