May 16, 2021

I’d been a little worried that we hadn’t heard the wood thrush that came to our woods last spring, but it arrived last night, singing at dusk (I need to get outside right now to listen again). A northern parula also spent the better part of the day singing all around our house, moving tree to tree, but I would be surprised if it set up its territory here. We ate our morels just a few minutes ago, sauteed in bacon grease and butter and adorning an egg & bacon sandwich on ciabatta bread. The mayapples are big and tall, and might escape their yearly fate of being overtaken by blackberry cane, which I cut back more rigorously in late winter.

We’d had plans to see my parents for the first time since before the pandemic, in February 2020, but my dad might have gotten food poisoning last night, and was in no shape to drive or be driven the 2 hours up to Vermont. But we will see them soon. We have been incredibly fortunate in so many ways this past year, when death and grief and illness have touched almost everyone. We’re not out of the woods yet, and my wife and I receive our second vaccine shots this week, but we’ve been lucky so far and are grateful.

I’ve been setting up the trail cam only sporadically and in different spots, but the best place seems to be the woods road right-of-way. When I set it up in the driveway, the only reliable animal that triggers it is an orange house cat with a long tale and a pooch.