I love the first good rain after the spring planting. Seeds stuck in the ground just last Sunday are popping up without my help of going down each row and carefully dribbling water so that the plants and not the weeds are fed.
This morning, all the rest that didn’t stick their heads out–except for stubborn winter squash and sage–have broken soil. Lettuce, spinach, green beans, cukes and yellow squash, zinnias, poppies, basil, dill; all marking places in a rather staggered row amid the cheater plants like tomatoes and the peppers. No broccoli this year; I’m sick and tired of poking slender stalks within the heads for movement. Why can’t broccoli worms look like something other than the broccoli itself? Be yellow or even black or red? Miss one and you’ll find him (with any luck) floating on the top of steaming water. If not and he died with death-grip on a branch, well…
The birds are happy too. My friendly lady hummingbird is not among the several visiting this year. I fear the worst. Yet a young male has sized me up–with a bit of bravado in the morning when I’ve still got on my satin green and raspberry-collared robe–and comes right up to me to hover in my face before he feeds. The cardinals will make a show of hopping round each side of the feeder then face me squarely chirping loudly of the fact that it’s run out of seed. Towhees, titmice, juncos, chickadees, sparrows, buntings, grosbeaks, housefinch, goldfinch, cowbirds, catbirds, doves, red-winged blackbirds and the occasional grackle all have their own unique way of feeding and their particular favorite of the mix. I watch as they fling the seed around to get the choice of what they want. A male cardinal will feed his almost full-grown son–did you know that?
We won’t talk about the chipmunks. Or the coyote turds right by the bushes around the house. Or the bear across the street ambling through the neighbor’s playground for the kids. No, I didn’t see him; it seems I never do. The bears will go on by when everyone else is looking in that direction and me, my nose is either in a book or my fingers are on this keyboard.
Wait–I look up, thinking maybe…but no. There is no bear.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology