The Nest Box

Rae Spencer6 Comments

One of the first purchases we made, after moving into our house, was a nest box for the back yard. Much to my disappointment, summer after summer passed with no nests. Then I ran across an article (I can’t remember where) that said birds prefer nest boxes positioned so the entrance faces north. With nothing to lose, we moved our unused nest box. Immediate success.

A pair of chickadees!

I spent many happy hours watching them stuff the nest box with pear petals and moss. But something went wrong and the nest failed. Later, when we cleaned the box, two tiny unhatched eggs made me want to cry.

In subsequent springs, we’ve watched more chickadees build more nests in the box, and all have failed. Only once did we know why. Bumblebees.

Now I’m tempted to take down our nest box, as it seems a source of great disappointment for both the birds and myself. But I suppose the bees need a place to nest, too. Maybe I’ll leave it one more year…

Iris in Bloom

Rae Spencer2 Comments

Falling victim to our odd non-winter, one of my irises lost track of time and bloomed far too early. Its madness stokes my mania for spring. I’m restless and unfocused, tempted to open my windows despite the cold. Should I trust the iris?  Perhaps it is a more reliable prophet than a sleepy groundhog…

The Cat

Rae Spencer8 Comments

The Cat

In my house is a one-eyed cat
Poised for luck on a windowsill

Her remaining eye is cataract clouded
Clarity lost in a dark instant

A distant wound salvaged
By surgery, her blind futures averted

She is pure patience perched
On a shadowed brink of world

Blurred by screen and mystery
Unaware of her own tragedy

Unruffled, the cat is vigilant
Staring down lawn with one imperfect eye

Lest light slip past her window
Tragically unobserved

Before I Knew

Rae Spencer3 Comments

Before I Knew

Before I knew pleasures
Should be guilty
I climbed trees

Forfeiting homework and chores
In search of the beginning
Of wind
In those days shadows danced
Proved the sun moved around the Earth
(Did Ptolemy climb trees?)

Before I knew history
Was more ancient than myself
I hunted arrowheads

Scouring new plowed furrows
I exhumed fallen masterpieces
Of war
In those days summer ruled
Proved we would live forever
(Was Einstein once a child?)

Before I knew memory
Shaped the future
I dreamed easily

Dozing among the branches
Bare feet thickly shod
With dirt
In those days apples beckoned
Proved the universe was infinite
(Did Newton also dream?)

Published in The Powhatan Review, Vol. V, Number 1, Summer 2005

Landscapes

Rae Spencer9 Comments

I once believed that I was not suited for any landscape outside of Tennessee. I was a green and rust girl, addicted to leaf-litter and streams, katydids and quail. How could I learn to love anything other than what I had known?

When I moved to eastern Virginia, I found everything too vast. Too much sky, too much ocean, too much horizon. The sand, pine straw, and salt marshes shifted unpredictably underfoot. There were no katydids. If there were quail, I couldn’t hear them for the gulls.

Virginia was blue and beige, flat and salty. It felt barren, a virtual moonscape compared to the ridges and hills of “home”. And I felt jaggedly out of place, a coarse river-stone rolled loose by some sudden flood and washed all the way down to the sea.

Fourteen years later, the coast has grown on me, and in me. I’m still a girl of green and rust, but no longer frightened by sky. The sand has polished me a bit. I’ve discovered that a little salt in the water does not equal poison. Best of all, there are green places here, too, where I can feel at home.