Shuffling into Spring

While it is, technically, spring, the scene out my window is somewhat dreary. Yes, the oak is leafed out and the Texas bluebonnets are blooming in the front yard along with tulips. In the backyard, the redbud tree is blooming and on previous sunny days I’ve seen errant honeybees in it. That gives me hope. They say, they being the nature people who count these things, that bees are declining. It’s true there aren’t many, but any at all gives me hope for our chemical free yard.

But today is overcast and dreary. Yes, I’m grateful for rain…farmers are always grateful for rain. Well. I’ve just realized I need to amend that statement some as the farmers north of here whose fields are muddy and ugly from the late winter floods and who may not be able to plant in those fields for another two to three years, might just as soon not see rain. And this particular overcast sky is supposed to bring more rain up north than down here.

Over the Easter weekend, I corresponded with a blogging friend, Rambling Rose, in Sri Lanka. And after an Easter day when she wrote about the church bombings, she’s gone dark. I’ve read the authorities have closed access to all social media outlets.

It is an unsettled world.

I remain grateful for our lives and our home even though it’s still suffering from winter storms and needs a new roof…like NOW. But that’s not going to happen “now” I expect. We have spread out big plastic garbage bags in the attic and stationed various old pots and buckets under the worst leaks. When a winter storm dumped over a foot of snow on the willow branches, weighting them down, they leaned over the electrical wires and pulled out the window ledge where said wires were attached. And broke off the new weather-head on the new electrical wires that go to the outside new electrical box which go to the new electrical panel in the basement. Thankfully, that’s repaired and the rain won’t go dripping down and short us out again. We did, however, need to severely trim my beautiful and much loved willow. It is, I’ve seen, recovering and putting out new shoots. I’ve given it food stakes to help it along.

This is getting to be a rather grim post, I’m realizing. Probably it’s the gray and cranky scene out my window. So here’s a bright point. When the window ledge which said wires weighted down with snow pulled out, it also took a chunk of stucco with it. So, to protect the wall from further damage with snow/rain/etc leaking down the wall behind the stucco, I filled another handy garbage bag with an old, flat pillow to keep garbage bag from flopping around, hung it outside over the broken spot, and secured it with the window sash. Good thinking, I thought.

Obviously, a sparrow thought so, too. She decided behind the plastic bag and in the space left from the pulled out window ledge was the perfect and warm place to build a nest. So each morning, as I sit in my rocking chair at that backyard window and journal fragile morning thoughts (this window in front of my computer is in the front of the house), baby chicks peep and cheep and call for mother who flutters back with something or another, the peeping gets louder, she flies away again for another round of whatever she’s feeding them, and that goes on for a good while until babies finally sleep. Or whatever baby birds do once they are fed.

Well. Over the years, while creating the backyard gardens, I wanted a bird and butterfly refuge. I guess it worked.


Enter Spring

A Black Hole may have swallowed me these past couple of weeks. It’s hard to tell for sure though since spring is throwing itself pretty forcefully in all directions, sucking up oxygen and energy.

While not completely understood, certainly by me, Black Holes absorb everything around them with a gravitational pull that allows nothing to escape. Sluuuurrrp. Gone. And Spring. Well. It explodes out rather than in – the opposite really from a gravitational pull into nothing.

And yes, the photo is my spring garden. I’m inordinately proud of having a plot of Texas  Bluebonnets – true, no Indian Paintbrush, but the red tulips will have to do.

It doesn’t feel like Lent anymore. It just feels like living.

It’s not that nothing is getting done. Along with spring exploding all around a big box arrived from Spring Hill Nursery with more plants that needed planting in wet ground right away.

So while my body was physically, although slowly, planting and bending and doing, my head was pretty empty of thinking or words. A Black Hole head and a Spring body??? Well. Something like that.

My Lenten discipline to avoid abruptness has survived mostly because I was sick for a couple of weeks and even after couldn’t move very fast anyway, but my head and my Lenten reflections? Gone. Pulled into a gravational field that will not give them back.

So how’s your nine-day-old springtime going? And your Lenten resolve? Did you lose March, too? And where did it go to?

Maybe Cancun.