Coast Chronicles: A golden reflection on another year finished

The Year of the Goldfinch, which has no basis in fact, science, tradition or astrology, soon comes to a close anyway.

Be sure to put coins (preferably gold but more practically shiny pennies, dimes or quarters) under your dinner plates and front door mats, into your pockets or onto your window sills. To do this on New Year's Day helps assure a prosperous year. At least that's what the long-held traditions of many countries, cultures and our own coastal region tells us. Why? Coins equate to prosperity.

And goldfinches equate to gold. It's not a huge leap to imagine these gorgeous, lively yellow birds symbolizing prosperity.

Literal, not figurative

But that's not why last year I proposed we make 2015 the Year of the Goldfinch. My reasoning was simplistic and visual. I am surrounded by goldfinches -- spring, summer, fall, winter.

Six years ago, I bought a fixer-upper on a little woodsy hill in The Old Dominion, the state of Virginia.

My reasoning was with some judicious crunching of a meager budget, I could create the best of two worlds, the refreshing seascape of the Mississippi Coast and the mountain vistas of the Virginia Piedmont.

I hadn't bartered for goldfinches. But something about the little woodsy hill attracts them in all seasons, a bird-watching delight not experienced on the temperate Coast, where the finches aren't as plentiful.

In the summer, the Virginia males are a yellowish gold with sharp black lines, and the females are a yellow olive. In the autumn, they begin to fade, and in the winter both are an attractive olive. In the spring, they are mottled with yellow and olive spots, and the cycle begins again.

But that's not the only reason I suggested the Year of the Goldfinch.

These little guys are survivors. Man stupidly introduced an eye virus into their natural environment, which could have wiped out the species. It didn't.

They are smart. I'm convinced they send telegrams across the Blue Ridge telling others to come to this little hill, announcing, "She not only feeds us well but has a heated birdbath for frigid days."

They are talkative. Geesh, you should experience the cacophony of hundreds (no exaggeration) of them in the trees. Their chatty numbers double in winter, for some reason. Perhaps it's the good food and melted water.

Fun watching

They are fun to watch. Their friendliness and sharing with each other and their interaction with other species and their environment are loads more entertaining than TV and computers.

Whether real or imagined, these are qualities I admire in humans: survival instincts, adaptability, smart use of God-given skills, tempered aggression, sociable conversationalists, an appreciation for good food and drink -- and those who provide it. Let's not forget the color of prosperity.

I don't know about your Year of the Goldfinch, but mine was quite memorable. The high points were not so high that they altered my core strengths, and ditto for the lows. What more good luck could I want for. Family, friends, sound body and soul, ticking brain, typing fingers, challenges enough to keep me appreciative of what I do have.

Ain't life grand!

I've slain a few dragons this year, and faced disappointing defeat with a few others. But with each new season, the goldfinches have returned, figuratively and literally. I only hope the same is true for you, however you define your goldfinches.

Now we march into 2016, and the natural human tendency is to reflect on what we want for the coming year, or how we want to improve our health/money/situation/love life/family ties and friendships/time management/job/etc./etc./etc.

Let it happen

All are admirable and worthy goals, but instead of using one day of the year to set ourselves up for year-long resolution defeats, let's consider the advice of my wise, 93-year-old friend who says about each day, "Just let it be a happening."

Ah, that's it! Let's declare 2016 as The Year of Happenings with a few goldfinches tossed into the mix and some New Year's coins under our plates of black-eyed peas.

Kat Bergeron, a veteran feature writer specializing in Gulf Coast history and sense of place, is retired from the Sun Herald. She writes the Coast Chronicles column as a freelance correspondent. Reach her at BergeronKat@gmail.com or c/o Sun Herald Newsroom, P.O. Box 4567, Biloxi, MS 39535-45667

This story was originally published December 26, 2015 at 7:02 PM with the headline "Coast Chronicles: A golden reflection on another year finished ."