The lower meadow needs mowing. The grasses have grown to twelve or more inches. It has been so wet that the last time I drove my mower tractor into the meadow I got stuck for two days. It will have to wait.
I did trim some Wisteria vines and pulled some ambient seedlings from the various house gardens and planted Petunias.
I again thought of man’s proximity and connection to nature’s constant spring birth and how we attempt to manipulate the natural beauty of spontaneous chaos into the patterned form of our symmetry and color.
I watched and listened to the bubbling warble of the House Wrens building their nests in a tiny birdhouse hanging in the Hackberry Tree over the Spirit Garden and in the Buddha Garden on the other side of the house. Their little brown bodies belie their feisty demeanor and territorial defense.
In the eves and beams of a large portico over the front entrance is a Robbins nest tucked in the center of a hanging fern; they built it in three days. A Turtle Dove is nesting on another eve. The Doves are squatters in an old Robins nest.
I am reminded again, as I am so often of Shakespeare’s line. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.” I hope your spring days are just as profound.
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