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A GOOD DAY
I dig my hands in the black soil of my garden.
It is still a garden of plans and dreams. It has not yet evolved into the green plant-filled oasis that it will soon become. It is a place for me to watch summer arrive.
I visit the garden early in the morning. Dewed spiderwebs dot the lawn. Light and shadows play through the woods. The haunting sounds of crickets and toads still pierce the morning air. I pull some small weeds and pull some solutions for the day's problems right along with them. The weeds appear to spring from nowhere. I am in a hurry, but the weeds are not. The weeds hang onto their place on earth with a determined cussedness. People may run out of patience, but nature does not.
Time slows down as I go about my work. Arrogant squirrels do their trapeze acts in the trees over my head. Nature finds us in our hiding places. The birds sing their morning chorus to accompany my activities.
I am convinced that we cannot live without birds and their songs. It is difficult for a person to take himself too seriously while the birds sing. I listen to the vocalizations of the birds. Their songs lift my spirit. There are times when I think that listening to birds is the only time that I am sure that I know what I am doing. Birds change us. Their voices cause us to become more meditative. I feed the birds. I plant shrubs for them. I provide water for them. I plant blueberries. I never eat one of the berries. I might add that I love blueberries. I never eat any of the blueberries because the birds beat me to them.
There are those who claim that we do not need birds. I do not agree. I will not argue with people who feel that way, but I will offer them some advice. Even those people who believe that birds are not needed should do something for our wild birds. Whenever our souls need tending to, we should care for the unnecessary.
We can make a difference here.
-- Al Batt
I never had any other desire so strong, and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and a large Garden. ~Abraham Cowley, The Garden, 1666
Plant creeping phlox now in a sunny location on the edge of a bed or in a rock garden. This low-growing perennial produces fragrant blue, white, or pink flowers and forms a 1- to 2-foot diameter mat.
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