August 11: Loon Birthday

When it's a special day, a birthday, it can sometimes seem like every good thing that happens is for your benefit. The universe revolves around you, celebrates your very existence. That's a good birthday.

Today is my mom's birthday, and while she was relaxing in a lawn chair out on her float on the river this morning, she got her gift: the two resident adult loons and their fuzzy brown chick approached within ten feet of her. My mom has been watching this baby loon's development since it was hatched, so it's virtually part of the family at this point. If she doesn't see it every day, she worries. The loons, of course, were wishing her a happy birthday. And the parents were teaching their youngster a lesson, catching a fish and dropping it in the water in front of the chick so it could learn how to catch fish for itself. The true gift was their letting my mother observe such intimate animal behavior up close.

Thankfully, the universe continues to revolve around Mom tonight, as the Red Sox, her favorite team (and mine), seem on their way to another victory versus Toronto.

A touching side note about my mother's birthday: when my sister told my four-year-old niece Fiona that today was Nanny's birthday, she burst into tears, upset that Nanny was "getting old and would die." My niece's universe revolves around my mother for sure!

Loon family visit--
river offers up this gift.
Happy birthday, Mom!

July 30: Loon Chick

This evening we spent time with my four-year-old niece, who is staying with my parents for the weekend. We had dinner al fresco in the back yard, and then Fiona and I decided to sit on the dock and watch the river. Water bugs skittered across the surface, and Fiona was excited to see a couple of small fish slip past us underwater. As my husband got his fly rod ready to do a little casting before sunset, we all noticed the loon family in the middle of the river: two adults with one fuzzy brown chick between them. They seemed to be teaching it how to fish. Fiona looked through binoculars at them, but I'm not sure she knows how to use them well enough to see the birds. My mother tried to explain to her how loon calls are different depending on where they are, that the place, not the bird, determines what they sound like. I think that too was beyond Fiona's interest and comprehension at this point, but we'll make a birder out of her yet!

Fish began jumping as sunset burnished the clouds. Fiona was impressed with Uncle Paul's dragonfly fly. She'd probably have been even more impressed if he'd caught something with it. Four ducks that I think were wood ducks flew past. A beaver slowly made its way upriver, as it does every evening, a silver vee trailing behind it. And the loons drifted upriver too, still fishing. My dad built a small fire in the fire pit, and we all stayed outside in the growing dark, past Fiona's bedtime.  

Loon chick with parents--
family night on the river.
I watch with my niece.

April 12: A Letter

Today I came home from work to find a special piece of mail in the usual pile on my coffee table. My 3-1/2-year-old niece had left a "letter" in my mother's mailbox (with a cat sticker for a stamp) and raised the red flag. To ensure that I would actually receive this precious communication, my mother then snuck it out of her mailbox and into mine. In big, wobbly, but legible letters, my name was written on both the front of the envelope and on the "letter" inside. The well-folded letter also included what I think was a purple portrait of either me or her. Seeing my name spelled out in her childish scrawl gave me a weird flashback to myself at about the same age writing my name on a birthday card for my grandfather. She even made her R the same way I did back then, like a circle with two legs. Making that card is one of my earliest memories. My two nieces are about as close to my own children as I'll ever get, so the moment was one of those full circle things--my niece is me 40 years later. And soon she'll be reading, writing stories, learning cursive (if kids still do that). Her own journey as a writer is just beginning.

Today is also the birthday of my sister, the mother of my niece. Since I was nine when she was born, I remember that exciting day--and the progress of her own childhood--well. How fast it all happens. And now that little baby I was convinced was going to be a baby brother, the little girl who wanted to be a ballerina and always posed for the camera, now she has two beautiful girls of her own. Sappy, I know, but that's what inspired me today. Happy birthday, Erin. And thank you for the lovely letter, Fiona.

Those big scrawled letters
K-R-I-S-T-E-N--
are they mine or hers?

February 7: Fireworks

As part of the US National Toboggan Championships held in Camden this weekend, last night there was a fireworks show over Camden Harbor. When told we were going to see them, my niece, who was born on July 5, was confused. "Is tomorrow my birthday?" she asked hopefully, if a bit confused. "Am I going to be four?" We had to explain that these were special fireworks, not like the ones she remembered seeing in Marblehead Harbor this past summer the night before her birthday. Fireworks are fireworks, so even though her birthday wasn't involved, she was still excited.

Bundled in many layers under her little down parka (the bottom layer of which was her shiny blue, pink, and silver-spotted princess dress), Fiona was probably warmer than we adults were. In fact, I offered to carry her on my shoulders just for the added body heat. And perched there amid the small throng gathered at the public landing, she had a perfect view of the display.

Unlike most nights when Camden plans fireworks, last night was perfect (OK, it could have been about 30 degrees warmer, but other than that...) After a striking pink sunset, the night sky was crystal clear, Orion shone bright over Curtis Island--I was able to point out his belt to Fiona--and Mars hovered above the plastic-wrapped windjammers. The walkway at the public landing was lit by pretty ice votives. And the fireworks went on just long enough to make it feel like a worthwhile outing, while not so prolonged that we risked serious frostbite.

When we watched the Fourth of July fireworks this past summer, Fiona was too sensitive to the loud bangs they made to enjoy the spectacle of the light show. Now she was just enough older that she was able to appreciate the bursts of color despite having to cover her ears. Watching fireworks with a kid reminds you how much fun they are. We all "oohed" and "aahed" right along with my niece as we admired the sparkling greens and pinks, the blossoming flowers of sparks and sizzling streamers spread out over the water of the outer harbor. The crowd cheered more than once after a particularly prolonged burst of pyrotechnics, and the grand finale sent us all on our way aglow with the shared fun of small-town pleasures. Now, time to hit the pizza place...

Over the harbor
winter fireworks burst and bloom.
Little girl's face glows.

January 17: Tiny Dancer

Despite the best intentions of my sister and her husband to offer my niece Fiona non-gender-specific toys and clothing, at 3-1/2 years old, she has proven to be a very girly girl. Her favorite color is pink, she can name all the Disney princesses (can you?), and she spends entire days wearing a satin Cinderella gown or a pink tutu. (I've had the pleasure of escorting the Princess to the store around the corner, where she hammed it up and elicited lots of smiles from other shoppers.)

This morning, after Fiona put on her pink dress, floral tights, and ballet slippers, my brother-in-law turned on the classical music station so she could dance. First she danced with him so she could show us how he dipped her, but then she insisted on a center stage solo. She has a child's natural sense of rhythm, and entertained us with some very creative moves--spins, leaps, struts, tippy-toes, the works. We have no idea where she learned this stuff--apparently her first (and last) ballet lesson was a fiasco. What most delighted us, though, was the intense expression on her face as she performed for us. This was serious stuff for our ballerina diva.

Dancing little girl--
so young but so serious,
life's stage before her.