Taking a walk the other day out my backyard yielded surprises. I inspected microscopically, down, beneath my feet at the blades of grass hiding tiny mushrooms, as well as macroscopically, up, at the leaf patterns of the towering trees above my head.
Living here cracks me up, actually. I am a mile from town, yet folks have large yards, hayfields even. It is quite rural. One person has free range chickens and a rooster walking around on the lawn. They are pretty to look at, the rooster is a rust color and contrasts with the green grass and the pale hayfield behind him. As I return from the Post Office, I drive by the farm stand with pink neon cardboard posters announcing the latest produce for sale. Yesterday it was “Turnip greens,” next to signs announcing “Open” and “Check it out!”
At night, as the windows are open and the little traffic we get during the day dies down, I hear dogs, chickens, roosters, the train, owls, birds and an occasional car. Sometimes someone laughing in the distance.
So the spring has progressed and I wandered out to the back corner of my yard and drifted near the hedge. I was interested in the part of the yard between the stand of apple and pecan trees and the mowed line where the hayfield begins. There is a line of birdhouses on posts, and standing on tiptoe I saw that they were all occupied with chicks. Well, I’ll be dogged! I could not see them but I heard teeny little peeps and was completely charmed.
Ah, the culprits of the pollen explosion. Spring is great, but the resulting yellow dust that grits everywhere is not.
The regularity of this pattern reminds me of the Fibonacci sequence. There is mathematical harmony in growth. In my opinion of course, it is Designed.
I love wood. In this case, the differing colors caught my eye, from gentle tan to slate gray to green mossy lichen. The tree was still stately despite losing a branch.
Later dusk now, it was this little guy who got me outside to see what the ruckus was. He is standing about 15 feet from my bedroom window cawing up a storm. When I got out there and saw it was just a baby cardinal tweeting as the sun went down, I laughed and chided him gently. He paid me no mind and went right on calling. Such a huge sound from a little guy! I dubbed him my Sundowner Bird.