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spring rhapsody

It’s dusk – bedtime in Birdland. All the sparrows are in their nests in the ivy, squawking, chattering, trilling, flapping. I watched a parent shove its beak down the throat of a baby sitting on a telephone wire, two others waiting nearby. Soon, all the noise will stop instantly, and all will be silent until the frantic dawn chorus at 6 – squawking, chattering, trilling, flapping.

The sky is blue-grey with some pinkish clouds. And everywhere below there is green – bright, pale, acid, dark, every shade of green – except for the dead bits of plants and ivy, killed by the winter and crispy brown. The lilac is out and the camellia bush has seven fat buds. Today we planted the garden – carrots arugula lettuce zucchini tomatoes and herbs – and lilac, and some cedars to replace the dead holly tree, and white impatiens in the shade.

I am in love with this garden. Wayson just stopped by to invite me to have dinner with him at a sushi place nearby, but I cannot leave my deck right now, even for Wayson. I need to sit here and look and smell and be.

Later: now it’s dark and very, very quiet. I’m inside under a blanket, because the back doors are wide open and it’s chilly. I can’t get enough of this air.

It’s 9.30 and I’m ready for bed.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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