My days...

Do you get this sore and tired when working in the garden?  Could this have something to do with age, that doesn’t forget nor forgives?  Maybe?  Spring cleaning—that’s what it’s called.  

 

Spring cleaning is not a thing of the North alone as one may think.  One is not to be spared off that task here either as I had imagined I’d be.  But what amazing privilege it is to be able to start prettying up the garden this early in the season!  So not like the north.  By May, my little paradise will be already looking gloriously beautiful, and I will have an extended period of joy as the gardening season stretches here.

 

I cleaned a big area and moist spaces by the little creek where I’m planning on planting Elephant Ear bulbs as a border.  I can already see it in my mind—the bold foliage and gigantic heart-shaped leaves… emerald, purple, black, chartreuse and yellow.  Can hardly wait!

 

 

I think I might have been poisoned again.  I was sure that poison ivy dies off in winter time.  Perhaps not.

The other day colossal flocks of blackbirds in a Hitchcock-like numbers flew by our little white cottage.  What were they?  Common grackles, brown-headed cowbirds; perhaps starlings? With an incredible bustle of tweets and wings they took possession of the wooded areas behind our gardens and surrounding trees for an entire day.  

I marveled as I watched these feathered creatures showing off dazzling aeronautics for such common birds.   Gliding the air as they did in a lovely dance; floating down without an apparent movement of their wings.  Such majestic cascade of a drop—like petals being carried down by gentle breezes.

Then today… sitting at the table having breakfast. 

 

And outside…

 ...THE Cedar Waxwing.  A treat to find outside your window eating berries in their silky, shiny collection of brown, gray, and lemon-yellow…

Beautiful feathers accented by a subdued crest, rakish black mask, and brilliant-red wax droplets on the wing feathers.

Filling the air with their high, thin, whistles…

What do I do all day in my little white cottage; some people ask.  They want to know… days are too short for all I do and want to see done.  I go about my little white cottage doing this doing that, from time to time, too, looking outside, studying the surrounding, listening to a new bird song over the privets, a racketing of wings, trying to understand the ruckus of crows and sometimes… trying to discover God with my ears and heart when the eye cannot see or would not see.  Always trusting my heart to understand that what cannot be explained.