I can most likely be found in my back yard oasis.
I call it an oasis because for me, there is no other place on earth
that is as peaceful or beautiful.
I invite others to come and sit a spell, even when I am not here.
Because in my garden you will surely find calm and healing.
One azalea bush has bloomed bright fusia,
and the rest of the trees and bushes seem to blossom more
every moment I look up at them from my perch,
unfurling their leaves and flowers in the warm day.
The orioles have arrived and have come back to their nest of last year,
in the tree directly in front of my chair, high above in my tree.
I scurry, as well as I am able with a broken leg,
to fill their feeders with grape jelly, orange marmalade and orange halves.
I hear their lovely song, as they wait for the dogs to settle,
and they feel comfortable enough to sip the homemade juices.
With their bright orange coloring, my camera and I can follow their progress easily.
The rose breasted grosbeaks have also returned with a flourish.
I had only seen them a few times last season,
taking quite a while to discover what kind of bird they actually were.
Now they are back in multitude,
and I am discovering are very aggressive at the feeders!
mama chasing away the bluejay
The shy, but noisy red headed woodpeckers call my attenton to thier frolicking
in the trees behind my yard.
Squawking and flying and chasing one another,
rarely attempting to venture to the tree nut banquet awaiting them in the feeder.
When they do come close,
it is only to circle with their vibrant white, black and red feathers,
swooping near, but most always veering off at the last moment.
Every year I try to decipher each different birdsong,
and I seem to forget each tune during the cold winter months.
With that first early morning note,
I am transported back as if no time had passed at all.
I watch the mourning dove sunning herself on top of the feeder.
Suddenly she flies away as I notice all the bird songs have stopped.
Gracfully low overhead, a hawk circles and then leaves.
The songs begin again as though the switch was flipped on.
I eagerly await the hatching baby birds,
as the parents take turns feeding them meal worms and suet,
and then finally guide their young to the feeders
to learn to eat the seeds and jelly themselves.
As I cautiously walk around the garden, setting baskets, and iron ornaments around,
I am drawn to the weeds that seem to be taking over the area.
I broke my leg two weeks ago,
and I have been instructed by my youngest daughter
that I must sit and allow her to take over my much loved chores.
It is easy for me to let her mow the grass and sweep the deck,
even to bag the leaves from last fall.
But it is so very difficult for me to even suggest she carefully rake the beds
where dormant perennials await the winter blanket of leaves
to be lovingly thrown away from them.
Through the decade of years,
I have learned not to weed anything until most everything has come up to bloom.
I have unknowingly pulled may newly erupting flowers from their home,
never to see them again, because I thought they were weeds.
As I continue my tour, I stop to pull just one weed.
One turns into three and I have the thought
that I am addicted to my garden as one is addicted to nicotine or alcohol or cocaine.
As the physical pain in my leg creeps into my consciousness,
I struggle to stand and move to the safety of the deck.
It is a mighty struggle as my eyes see more and more of the once hidden weeds.
However, I consider the consequences of continuing this current path.
The lure of just one more weed, just one more bed,
is almost more than I can overcome.
The thought of my daughter catching me is enough to stop me in my tracks, though.
Off to the sun dappled area, where too soon it will be too hot to enjoy my paradise.
If I behave now, I can enter my familiar world of earth and growth and abandon.
It is enough knowing that I will be wrapped in my garden soon enough,
that I can let the winter plans of complete re landscaping go another year.
There will be plenty of weeding and planting to do without any new projects this year.
The sun is just now touching my chair supported toes, as I keep them lifted to heal.
It will be only a matter of minutes before I must take cover from the sun.
I may use some sunscreen and a floppy hat to extend my visit a little longer.
The bird's songs lull me into complete bliss as the warm breeze drifts past me.
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