June 27—I have noticed that the “Robin” baby birds have not
only a momma, but they also have a father whose presence is very much
noticeably around them... always, always watching his brood, sometimes from a
near tree branch, sometimes just standing strong and defiant above the nest,
and often throughout the day, you'd see him sharing duties with momma Robin, as
they take turns among themselves to care for their wee babies…
I have noticed too, that Papa Robins is a daring little
thing; less afraid of human proximity, or any sudden movement coming from us. He
even allows me to come in and out of the house without giving a flint; not so
like his wife Mrs. Robin here, always a little flutter of a bird the very
moment I move. I’ve seen them both looking at each other, eye to eye, and
wonder if perhaps Mr. Robin has spoken to her about me not wanting to hurt her
or her babies. He might have even offered a word or two on my behalf? But, of course, that’s still to be seen.
June 29—Days are a lovely assortment of birds, fluffy white
clouds and the color green. I sit on my throne in the middle of the
garden and count my minutes and my hours in bird songs and the hum on wings of
wind at 2:00pm.
But of course, don’t you ever think I would stand being idle for
too long—those are just my ‘in between work’ moments of rest and contemplation.
...because I can never, ever... be still!
Work work work—people often ask me why I work so much in the
garden. “Why, what’s there to be done now?”, and “you’ve already done
everything”, and “what are you doing now, I thought
your job in the garden was all done”. Done? The garden never sleeps, except
for the winter, and even in the winter it’s still working…
It is a constant mumble of growing things around here,
things rising up, things mounting, duding, emerging, producing. As you would
understand, I couldn’t sit for too long, could I? I have to keep up with the garden, or else, Mary Lenox will be moving in, and what would she’ll be finding here,
if it isn’t the same chaos I found when I moved here last fall? I just won’t want her to think that I too had abandoned this
garden. No, that’s not 'going to happen.
July 7—There are no roses to be seen in the garden these
days. Not a bloom not a petal to entice my senses and call upon my soul,
and there’s a spot on a certain corner in this same garden that has been
afflicted by some evil imp. One upon a time, a white rose used to bloom
just right there, but this spot has been cursed by some peculiar entity from
the undergrown, I'm sure... a most execrable thing indeed! For nothing would grow there, no
root would travel deep into the soil nor extract life from the source of
life. Everything I plant in that spot must be taken out—dried as an autumn
leaf.
On the contrary, the Shasta daisy on the opposite side of the garden have flourished
madly through the years, and have proliferated beyond limits...
...they will need to be dugout and divided this winter
most
certainly. The only problem, as I see it,
is to find them a place in this little plot of mine sunnier enough and spacious
enough for them to be happy. But where?
The same is to be said of the salvia; lovely
purplish-blue salvia, with its tendency to open out from its center, leaving
that epicenter bare, like some open head without a brain. These beauties
must be kept pruned and divided often, or that’s what you’d get.
The other day the mystery of the mixed
PEONIES was finally revealed
to me… by no other than the Fisherman himself!
Indeed, I do have two variety of peonies growing in my garden.
From that one single plant I bought and later
divided, several bushes have been stablished, but then there’s that other variety
of peonies growing here, as well—those with the beautiful magenta blooms. They didn’t propagate
by a miracle, as I might had thought so.
The other day, while reminiscing about many a thing, the Fisherman
reminded me of that Saturday morning long ago when driving around some dusty
country roads I spotted a little house where hundreds of peonies grew all around it.
I immediately asked the Fisherman to stop the
car, got out and went straight to ask the lady who lived in that little country
house if perhaps she would share a little cutting with me? She most graciously did, and that’s why I have two varieties of
peonies embellishing my garden every spring.
I had forgotten all about it, and what a pleasant thing it was to be
reminded of it…
Those are the very peonies that I dry in the spring and put in beautiful vases to embellish my home with, throughout the year!
I love them!
I hope you are all doing fine, and enjoying your summer days! Much love!
