Yesterday’s birds: towhees, chickadees, robins, starlings, scrub-jays, downy woodpeckers, flickers, doves, geese, hummingbirds, crows — and, late in the evening, with my throat feeling a bit dry, two timely swallows.
Yesterday’s planting: twenty-one dahlias — twelve in the main garden, three in the “test plot,” and three under the kitchen window where our daughter’s little boys used to dig for treasure.
Yesterday’s walk: barefoot in the grass in front of and behind the house — azalea breaking into bloom, ferns opening, pine and fir cones dropping, rhododendron buds swelling, hostas hoping, irises ache-inching to bloom, fig fast-figging, and the ivy green-grinning, in love with itself and everything else.
Yesterday’s memory: today’s rendition of wealth.
April 17, 2020
Just Enough to Wash Away
Last night’s rain was a brief round of applause — a tenth of an inch, just enough to wash away the rainbow chalk mark games the neighbor kids made. And so when they come home from school today, they’ll have a fresh blank canvas to write on. Much like the sky this morning, already filled with the script of joyous birds.
Recently Banned Literature, April 17, 2017
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