And in this year, I became a birder.
If you read the book, maybe you saw it coming? The reference in it to swallows isn't inconsequential. All last summer, I watched these graceful birds that have numerous nests here at the farmette with special interest. And this spring I opened myself up to the next level of bird watching. Suddenly, my days are punctuated by bird mindfulness! [This morning, just before dawn, as I was doing my usual shifting around, trying to find the elusive comfortable position where my leg would ache less and I could sleep more, I heard that unmistakable birdsong outside. Which bird is it? I had to know. I reached for my phone. Ah! Nothing more, nothing less than a Robin. You'd think I'd know him by now -- we have so many!]
Suddenly, I'm seeing stories everywhere about birding, including the very beautiful one today in the NYTimes -- Birds Show Us What it Means to be Free. You may remember the Central Park incident described therein. If you have a minute, read it -- now from the perspective of bird watching. And this weekend, go out early and look for a Bunting or a Warbler. I promise you, nature will not disappoint.
And of course, birds need trees, which brings me back to the struggle Ed and I are engaged in concerning farmette trees. The tug of war here does not put either of us in the right. Well, perhaps Ed has the morally justifiable foothold -- he speaks for the trees. He'll be the one to remind you to read this article on trees (this week in The New Yorker). I'm not sure either of us have fully bought into the idea that trees are sentient beings, but he comes pretty darn close to giving it due consideration. In that case, how can you disturb the natural progression of tree growth and forest development by taking down a team member? And where are all the farmette birds anyway? Up in the higher limbs of the trees of course. Perhaps ones that are creating the shade over my flower fields.
The other side of the argument -- my point! -- is that everything I grow attracts its own species of wildlife. Insects and frogs, hummingbirds. Wild bee species. Moths. All of it. Nonetheless, people destroy trees, forests as if it had no consequence.
It's complicated!
Morning walk:
I veer toward the meadows to check up on seed germination, and to pull up all that we try to eradicate -- Dame's Rocket, garlic mustard, catchweed.
This is the time when the first meadow flowers appear: Blue Flax and sand Dune Wallflower. So lovely to see these pods of color!
It's cold this morning -- the last of the dips into chilly weather. We eat breakfast in the kitchen. Bread from the farmers market black walnut guy, and a rhubarb cherry bar from the Sugar River Country Bakery -- we've been giving them our rhubarb every week now because we have so much of it!
Our work outside continues on this brilliant day of sunshine and warm temperatures. I divide and move hostas. Ed pulls up sod and spreads chips. We both miss our naps! Too much to do out there.
And then it is time to pick up Snowdrop.
We go to the neighborhood playground for a few minutes. She wants to move through her equipment routines...
... I want to see if I can still hang on monkey bars. (She offers to hold on protectively to my injured leg, but I assure her that I can handle a light descent.)
And in the farmhouse, we read. Hey wait, that's not Snowdrop, that's me, reaching for a muffin for the girl. Next to the bucket that catches the ceiling drips! She's good with working that camera!
Afterwards, I organize my ideas about the shade garden. I'll be planting tomorrow. From a standing position. It can be done!
And the evening light is so pretty and I see the first peony against a golden mass of false indigo. And the birds are chirping and it is one heck of a stunning show out there.
