|Kale going to seed|
A flash of color on the back porch catches my eye: a mockingbird. Their reputation for just plain meanness is well-justified and there's one sitting in a basket on the second shelf of a baker's rack. It's within a yard of the back door and I peer at it, my movement flushing the ornery bird. As I look closer at the basket, the scraggly collection of twigs poking out of it tells me it contains a nest. If there are no eggs in it, I think I might move it or even destroy it. It's been hard enough to live with nesting pairs of amiable barn swallows on top of the porch's ceiling fan for two seasons; I just don't think I could live with protective mama and papa mockingbird dive-bombing me every time I step out of the back door. Besides, nestlings and fledglings are tasty spring treats for snakes, and I do not want to remind them that my porch is a source of fast food.
|After a lifetime of proclaiming I can't draw, |
I've determined to learn. Here
is a drawing of a houseplace
in northern Mississippi.
|I so enjoy the drifts of red clover along the highway!|
There's always so much to do, that I can neglect to take time to just be. I am too busy to stop and enjoy the fresh spring breeze cooling my sun-warmed face. I am too busy to snuggle up next to a warm dragon while he snores. I am . . . tired.
So, the breeze beckons, the songbirds sing, and the dragon drowses: it's time to go enjoy them.
|Barn swallows are tolerable, but mockingbirds?|