The Fabled Goldfinch

 The goldfinch is an interesting bird to me. I grew up with sparrows, crows, pigeons, and finches. In my memory they live in browns, blacks, and grays. Maybe that was my neighborhood or maybe I just wasn't looking. A cardinal flashed now and then, but most days the palette stayed muted and birds felt conceptually cool and visually plain.

As I moved and started paying attention, the bright ones stepped out like visitors from a storybook. Cardinals are not rare anymore. They are neighbors that greet me daily. Bluebirds and blue jays throw color across the yard constantly. Even the so-called plain birds refused their roles I had assigned them. The crow shines with lacquered black. The sparrow holds sleek browns. They were never ugly stepsisters. More like Cinderella before the dress, worth noticing if you actually look. Even with this new appreciation, one character still steals the scene. The goldfinch.

They came through for a few weeks this year and then slipped away. Juncos hop through the beds and hawks ride the air, both attention grabbing in their own ways, but nothing stops me like a goldfinch.

I don't remember where or when I took this photo, but I remember why. Inside a wash of green and yellow, the bird stands forward like a drop of sun. You have to look.

I tried to rebuild that feeling with modern AI tools. The first pass missed. Too green, the bird oddly literal against painterly surroundings.

It’s not terrible. Just too much. Not the right feeling.

The second pass swung the other way and lost the life. Hours of small moves followed, bouncing between too much and not enough.

Then it clicked. Strong greens. Soft yellows. The bird holding its own, gold against gold, in raw outdoor light. That almost fake brightness you sometimes see in real life when color looks invented. A fairy tale detail in an ordinary yard.