The first Iris of the season opened its bloom today.
This iris is right next to the front door, which is a fairly sheltered little spot protected by the house from the cold air that tends to blow from the North and West, and somewhat also by winds from the south as they most often seem to be coming from the south west. One year, when I diligently took temperature measurements around the yard I found that this little section of the front yard easily ran about 10 degrees warmer in the winter. It averages a touch cooler in the summer too mostly because it is one of the few areas of the yard that gets bright morning sun but lots of shade in the afternoon. Too much of our property seems subject to the harsh, pounding afternoon sun.
When I stepped outside the front door to take the picture a couple of sparrows flew away in alarm and started twittering madly. They must be building a nest. I shall keep my eyes on them, it may be in the ferns near the door or at the base of the Azalea. I remember a few years ago when they nested in the large pot of flowers right next to the front door. Alas, I have not replanted that pot yet this spring, even though it is already getting late, so the exposed dirt is not a promising nesting site. I used to love to sit on the step just inside the front door and watch the sparrows come feed their babies.
I sat on the step for a while, and the birds started to hop cagily back, but then my cell phone went off and I had to stand up. They could see me through the window as well as I could see them, and the motion startled them off again. Perhaps another day, when I am not answering the phone for the office. If the nest is somewhere near the door where we can watch it, perhaps I will be able to show Owen something interesting in a few weeks when he comes to visit. It is possible that the chicks will not yet be ready, there may be nothing to see, nothing that can be watched with the attention span of a baby anyway.
Oh just sitting here for a brief moment and watching the birds reminded me of a much beloved book I read as a child, An Episode of Sparrows by Rumer Godden. I shall have to see if I can rustle up a copy as now it is set to plague my mind.