Take me out to the ballpark...

Thursday afternoon was sunny and warm, the best weather I ever remember for Opening Day of the St. Paul Saints. I was able to wear my original "Opening Day" t-shirt from 1993 without having to cover it with a winter parka, rain jacket, or even a sweatshirt.

The kids and grandkids joined us for tailgating and the first few innings, and they were thrilled to be back at the ballpark. The grands were playing catch with their dad when a Pioneer Press photographer came by, and this photo of ViMae and Augie scrambling for the ball is running in the paper's online album.

Augie was about two months old when he first came to the park, and ViMae was only a few days old when she made her debut. My first blog post, in August 2009, was about how much fun it is having them at the ballpark.

The photo above shows 2-year-old Augie in the old-fashioned catcher's mask Grandpa made for him. Meanwhile his year-old sister was beginning to enjoy flirting with the big pink pig mascot and sometimes with fans around us.

Over the years they have run the bases after Sunday games, watched batting practice, danced to the band, and carried balls out to the umpire. The chief umpire even invited Augie to help rub up the balls before a game. (You did know that they rub special mud on new baseballs, didn't you?) They love the playground, and sometimes they even like watching the game (especially Augie, who is trying to learn to keep score).

For the first 10 or 12 years, Peter and I were Saints fans who attended every home game, followed away games on the radio, and cared about wins and losses. We amused ourselves (and sometimes entertained others) with clever heckling of opposing players and coaches, or, rarely, an umpire.

Now when the kids go home we settle in next to one another and quietly enjoy the rhythm of the game. Baseball is mostly a mellow experience; some people dislike it for that very reason. But on a beautiful summer evening in Minnesota it's wonderful to sit outdoors and watch a game while keeping an eye on the sky for a soaring hawk and appreciating the changing colors of the late-setting sun. In fact, we're on our way right now. Batter up!

Ain't gonna study war no more...

Periodically the children ask me to type up and print out a plan they've been thinking about. The best example is Augie's business plan for a smoothie shop, which has evolved over the past year or two into a restaurant layout, full menu, and staffing assignments for the entire family.

ViMae creates in a more organic way, but she wanted a business plan like her brother's so we came up with a plan for a dress and gift shop. (How ever will I work in Augie's kitchen and make the dresses for Vi's shop? But that's a question for another day.)

So yesterday they wanted a new set of plans. Augie dictated this, including the properly used parentheses:

Augie's War Plans 
1. Hide
2. Wait
3. Spot enemy
4. Attack and defend
5. Clean up battle area
6. Do it over again (at next battle)

It seems a reasonable plan, especially if one is waging war to defend home turf and has been told to always pick up one's swords, shields, Lego siege vehicles, drumsticks, blankets, and other armaments.

Of course ViMae had to have a plan, too. And here it is, in pink as she directed:

Vi's War Plans
1. Retreat
2. Bring refreshments in case warriors get hurt

I couldn't stop myself. I love peacemakers, but I also wanted to help her understand the fairly obvious flaw in her war plan. (After all, I reasoned, a woman needs to fight for what she believes in.)

"How can you win if you don't fight the battle?" I ventured. She looked troubled.

"Do you want to add something about fighting?" "Yes," she said, but without conviction.

"Where should it go, first, second, or third?" "Third," she said decisively.

"What should it say?" She had no words.

I decided to offer a stark and silly alternative.

"Do you want to say 'Go to battle' or 'Have a party'?"

Instantly she brightened. "Have a party!" she said. So we added it:
3. Have a party.

Peter suggested that I invite her to make a Peacemaking Plan. We can talk about declaring a truce in contrast to fighting, retreating, or surrendering. We can talk about negotiation and compromise (something we talk about in an everyday-living context) or wherever the idea takes her.

I love this idea, talking about alternatives to war and about settling issues peacefully. I wish I'd thought of it myself. And I can't wait to hear what she has to say. She is clearly more of a peacemaker than a warrior at heart, and that's a wonderful thing.

The Young and the Nestless

The drama at our backyard bird feeders lately is worthy of a soap opera.

A couple of months ago Peter, ViMae, and I spotted two hairy woodpeckers flitting flirtatiously in the tree just outside the kitchen window. Their dance concluded, the female flew down and perched in the snow. Peter says she was gazing up at the male "with stars in her eyes." Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a hawk swooped down, snatched her up in its talons, and glided to the top of the fence. Our jaws dropped as the female struggled, then shuddered, then was still. It all happened in less than two minutes. The hawk carried his prey to a high tree in a neighbor's yard, and for another few moments, small feathers drifted down on the breeze.

Now we have a pairing that we hope will have a happy ending, but even their story has some drama.

Female house sparrow atop the nesting box.

In February a pair of house sparrows began to show interest in a nesting box that has been "for rent" since grandson Augie built it last year. With our nasty March and April weather we saw no more activity until last week.

On Monday a pair of black-capped chickadees checked out the place and fended off other birds that happened by. We were thrilled; chickadees are the neighbors we hope to attract. On Wednesday, though, the chickadees were chased off by sparrows that were just a little more fierce. I can't tell whether this is the same pair of sparrows we saw in February, but they soon began showing up with small twigs, and as one worked the other stood guard.

Male house sparrow patrolling his territory.

We were watching them during breakfast Thursday morning, agreeing that the smaller and more colorful of the two was the male. Hunkered down on the fence and fluffed up to ward off the cold, the female looked like she might be "with child."

Perhaps not. Suddenly the male flew over and mounted the female. "Look," Peter said, trying to be delicate, "He's helping her make eggs." Momentarily, I pictured a couple in a kitchen, taking turns scrambling eggs and cheese. The children, who know about birds and bees, craned for a better view. Peter hurriedly jockeyed the kids toward the window, and the sparrows mated two or three more times. As the show ended, we wished the sparrows a  happy parenthood and a safe future in our backyard, though we are mindful of the risks.

The birds have had to suffer through another five days of nasty cold weather including rain and snow. The happy couple made no appearances during that time, but they seem to be back today, and spring is supposed to return tomorrow. Will they succeed in building a nest? Will they lay eggs? Will they survive against their natural enemies? Tune in again for another episode of The Young and the Nestless.

At last!

The sun is shining and we are enjoying our second consecutive 70-degree day since October. It didn't warm up gradually - remember we had snow and cold right through Wednesday. So this is a Big Deal, and people are relishing the little things...working next to an open window, sitting outside with an iced tea, putting away the down coats and fur-lined boots.

The only green in the landscape is evergreens, but in our hearts, there is light and warmth and rejoicing, and to me it feels a lot like this image.

And speaking of "At Last," here is a favorite version by the late Eva Cassidy.