THE ROBIN - Singing and Ringing in Spring

Everyone has their favorite sign of spring. Some judge its arrival by various plants like the pussy willows or emerging tulips, or the return of wild geese, honking as they fly northward.

But for me, when I hear the first carols of the robins as they go bob, bob, bobbing on the greening backyard lawn, I get a feeling of optimism and glee that spring has sprung. Known to prefer an environment around homes and farmsteads, the robins will hurry and scurry to construct their nests in our high, dense rhododendrons at the side of our house. They are not opposed to building on flat surfaces under our deck, or on a man-made nesting platform either.

The true robin redbreast is a native of the Old World. Our robin in the United States is a thrush, but the pioneers named it the robin in remembrance of the bird that was common on the English countryside.

Nesting Platform

The nests of the robin is made of mud and lined with grass. The eggs are a pale, bluish green which we refer to as “robin’s egg blue.” They prefer to eat worms and fruit. Many times in July, I find them scouting my blueberry bushes for the first ripened fruit. If I put a net over the bushes, they often find a way in—by sneaking underneath the covering.

During spring, summer, and fall, I keep a bird bath near our patio. You can see them lined up, waiting to take a bath as soon as I replenish the bowl with fresh water. Then, I have to clean it again, since my little feathered friends have mud on their feet.

Folklore tells us that many people believe a visit from a robin is a sign that a lost relative is visiting them. Or in the spiritual world, the robin is viewed as a symbol of visits from deceased loved ones. I prefer the more modern symbol associated with the robin—a new beginning, new life, fortune and good luck. And of course, they’re my harbinger of spring. 

 

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HELLO, APRIL!

 I’m the first to admit that I enjoy April.

April is when all the flowers from bulbs beneath the sleepy earth emerge. Daffodils, crocus, wind flowers, and small grape hyacinths bring color, scent, and life back to the flowerbeds.

I think back to my childhood and how my mother loved plants and bushes of all types. We were a  farm family, and  it was not unusual to visit a neighbor’s house and go home with a piece of a bush, or some shoots wrapped in a wet rag, or a bundle of roots tied up in a burlap feed bag. Mother always found a place to plant her treasures and nurse them to maturity. And the favor was returned when friends, relatives, and neighbors came to call and left with a clump of rhubarb or day lilies.

At the front corner of my house, I still have trumpet vines from cuttings my mother gave me decades ago. Every fall we chop them back to stubby trunks, and in the spring they explode in a flourish of leaves and blossoms that entice the hummingbirds.

In the back yard, I have a bed of rag roses from around an old stone foundation of a house built in the early 1800s and situated along a well-used route westward. Everyone always referred to the cleared, often muddy pathway as “The Old Road.”

And, my favorite from our farm is at the side of my house—a large clump of Jack in the Pulpits my mother coddled in one of her flowerbeds.

April brings back lots of good memories. It’s a time of warm days, a time to get ready for spring planting and, for those of us who like to play in the dirt, it’s a month of sheer joy.

I’ll end with a colloquialism that the farmers often used in northeastern Pennsylvania: “So long, March. Hello, April!”

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