First paintbrush of the season--a brave soul, too. The temp was close to freezing last night--after soaring to 92 just a couple of afternoons before. March is usually a seesaw, but that's ridiculous. It's so dry that the wildflowers will be sparse, so I'm delighted to see this little guy. When the paintbrush bloom, the hummingbirds can't be far behind--another ten days, maybe.
One year, on March 15, it was cold, cold, cold, and the suet log was still hanging beside my office window, in the same spot where the hummingbird feeder hangs in the summer. I looked out, and there was a hummingbird, hovering beside the suet log, staring fiercely at it. Had to be the previous summer's hummer, looking for his hootch. I dropped what I was doing, fetched the feeder, brewed the hootch, took down the suet log, and fed that hungry hummer. I'm sure he'd had a long flight.
Reading note. It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens