Sorry!

I try to keep the bird feeders full or at least remind my husband to fill them. If I forget the birds drift off to find other sources of nourishment. It then takes a while to lure them back. I would hate for them to give up on me. I offer them good stuff, the black oil sunflowers seeds that they so enjoy. Maybe I should put out a sign – Out of Seed, Try Again Tomorrow – when the feeders are empty but I don’t know how to translate it into Bird. So I send out a mental message instead: Keep checking, please. The wait will be worth it.

I Love My Christmas Cactus!

I have a Christmas cactus on my kitchen windowsill. It is blooming like crazy! So I went online to see what I should do to help it grow. It seems that I should have been carefully monitoring its light, parsimoniously giving it water, and keeping it in a controlled temperature of 50 degrees before it would flower. I have done everything wrong. The kitchen is a) filled with light, b) probably the warmest place in the house, and c) an easy place to get water so the plant was frequently given a drink. According to what I was reading, this plant should not be thriving. Yet it is – beautifully. The only thing I can think of is that I talk to my plant, praise it a lot, and kiss it on occasion. Maybe it realizes that as a gardener I may be lacking but rules aren’t the only things that count. Don’t we all thrive on love regardless of circumstance?

Imagine...

The trees in my backyard have grown up together like old friends. They touch each other so that the Japanese Maples and the White Pines intersect, needles and leaves creating the illusion of trees holding hands.The branches of the Swamp Maple reach out to the Redbud, the leaves gently twisting in the breeze. The sun catches the underside making the leaves flutter like tiny birds. Mother Nature really knows how to stimulate the imagination.

Poor Trees

I'm still thinking about trees. We bought our house when it was ten years old. It is now forty years old. The trees that were once thin sticks planted along the curbs in the development are now huge. Their roots have spread under the concrete, often nudging up sidewalks into obstacle courses or sometimes running in long lines like octopus’s tentacles through the grassy end strips. Sometimes a tree becomes root bound and turns over and around its base so that it looks knotted. Poor trees. I wish they had more room to grow. It seems a sad legacy for such graceful beings.

Neighborhood vs. Tree

Remember the Lorax from Dr. Seuss? He spoke for the trees. Sometimes I feel inclined to do so, too. I am seeing the results of my suburban neighborhood’s aging on the trees. They were planted when the houses were originally built and now they are tall and fully grown. But the needs of people and trees sometimes conflict as when branches envelop electrical lines. The trees end up being pruned into odd shapes to accommodate the wires. When I look at them I see awkward shapes and thwarted beauty. Sometimes I worry that the tree will split in half, as some have, or that the tree will have been pruned so severely that it slowly declines and dies. And yet, what to do about the wires that serve the houses?

Holding On

The leaves of the tulip tree are just starting to turn yellow. This is a switch from its usual habit when they change color and drop in late August in a flurry of advance notice that autumn is coming. I wonder what shifted the tree's awareness. Maybe it, too, wants to hold onto summer a tad longer. Perhaps today's shift into cooler temperature and constant rain will convince it that it is time to let go. I understand its reluctance as I put on my heavy sweater before I leave the house. Even though I love the fall season and October is my favorite month, a sense of nostalgia overtakes me and I yearn for the freedom of my sandals. Ah well, I'll go outside to hug my tree and reassure it that spring is only half a year away.

Wild Wind

The wind was wild today. Forty miles per hour, the weatherman said. The branches moved as if they were in a dancing frenzy and the music was primal. I wondered how the birds were coping, if their nests were being shaken to bits or dislodged by the frantic activity of their normally stable trees. With all the noise I never heard the neighbor’s tree crack. The beautiful Bradford Pear had snapped in half. I wonder if it will be able to survive. I hope so. I would miss its beautiful flowering in the spring.