In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
– Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Locksley Hall
Well, I knew that bit, of course, although I couldn’t have named the poet, I fear. I did not know the lead-in couplets.
In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;
In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Forget young men. In the Spring in Ottawa (if such there be this year – we’ve had significant backsliding since last week), it seems that a robin’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of how to build a secure nest on a ledge about 3cm wide and 3m or more above a concrete porch. And then to doing it.
Did she know I was there, behind the window, fiddling with shutter speeds to try to allow for the low-light conditions? And did she wonder why I’d never bothered to buy a remote shutter-release cable that would have allowed me to snap the shot without ever so slightly jiggling my camera, perched on a tripod? I don’t suppose so. No, she looks pretty focused on her immediate task. Or maybe she’s just thinking about a bit of half-remembered poetry.
Nice new tenant, nice photo.
Jim – Thanks. Sadly, it looks like she’s abandoned the nest or met with a hostile force. We haven’t seen her for days.
Isabel
Nice of Tennyson to say that in the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Trouble is that a good number of us are now “a little long in the youth” so…
Is this one of those cases where it’s the thought that counts?
Tom
Tom – LOL Well, I guess there’s lovin’ and lovin’.
When I was a young man, if I can remember that far back, I don’t recall my hormones being seasonal.
JIm T
Jim – LOL. Poetry, not prose, I guess.
There’s a Mother — doing her job!! Beautiful photo, Isabel! And Happy Mothers Day to all of us with Mothers!
Marilyn – Many thanks. And I second your wish.