Another Wednesday in the Yard

Rae Spencer8 Comments

Another beautiful, warm day. The last thing I really wanted to do was crank the lawnmower. But, as is often the case, my last-choice task was on the verge of critical. The yard was calf-high in places. (In my defense, I think the moths and bees prefer it that way…)

Unfortunately, moths and bees aren’t running things. (Or… Maybe they are?)

No matter who is in charge, the yard needed mowing. So I laced up my grass-stained shoes, slapped on some sunscreen, and charged my iPod’s battery. I was almost finished, tired and grumpy and over-hot, when this little turtle popped out of the grass right in front of the mower.

 I wasn’t able to stop before catching him a bit with the front wheel. (I think I might have been the one who nicked his tail…) But he doesn’t seem to have suffered any lasting harm. Later this evening, I’ll release him near a pond. For now, he’s resting under an open window, safe from the yard’s many dangers.

He’s very small. Probably the smallest turtle I’ve ever seen!

Overcast

Rae Spencer13 Comments

The sky is dull gray, the air damp and chilly. It’s almost as if our lost winter has found its way home, at last, and means to stay a while. Except, there are all these flowers…

The robin doesn’t appear to be worried, though she is sticking close to the nest. Perhaps I’ll follow her lead.

From the Mockingbird Archives

Rae Spencer2 Comments

These two images make up the entirety of my mockingbird archive. Mockingbirds are not scarce, nor are they particularly camera shy, so I don’t know why there aren’t more.

Speaking of mockingbirds, here’s a video/slideshow from my husband’s archives (with a poem I wrote after seeing the photos).

The Irises

Rae Spencer5 Comments

I can’t explain my fascination with irises. My paternal grandmother kept them, but I have few reliable memories of her. They are Tennessee’s state flower, but I never planted them in Tennessee’s soil. Maybe my Virginia house and yard simply called for irises, as some metaphors call for poetry. Maybe my first iris bulbs, prized gifts in a brown paper bag, arrived when they decided I was ready.

Years ago, I preened over blooms, then gaped in awe as sturdy green fans survived hurricanes and snowstorms. I fumed through fall’s brutal business of separating stubborn roots and bulbs, then forgave my unruly brood when spring’s spectacular crop nodded thanks for my labor.

Soon they’ll need separating again. The work is tedious and itchy, fraught with allergy perils. I scratch and sneeze while my irises fight back with the only weapons they possess, an encamped army of spiders and mosquitoes, crickets and ants.  Maybe there will be another praying mantis, like the one that leapt into the cuff of my glove last time.

I’m still fascinated, if a bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of what grew out of that brown paper bag.

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I wrote parts of this piece several years ago. It was a starting place for what later became one of my favorite poems.

Trouble in the Yard

Rae Spencer6 Comments

I believe these are Eastern Tent Caterpillars. This afternoon, I found three of them roaming through the irises at the foot of the pear tree. I can’t find their tent, but I did find a trail of damaged leaves that extends well beyond ladder-height. And since I’m not in the mood for tree climbing, the rest will have to wait. Seems like a weekend kind of project, anyway…

I would love to be corrected, because there’s not really room in my weekend for a caterpillar hunt. If these aren’t tent caterpillars, please let me know!