Our yard is full of doves. I watch and listen as they amble along our fence, browse beneath the feeders, and coo low love songs from our roof. I follow their nests in our pear tree, in our roses and pansies, and wave goodbye when the fledglings fly away. Do they return, sometimes, when they are ready for nests of their own?
All these doves in our yard. Do they also watch and listen, wondering where we came from and where we will go?
Yesterday evening my back yard was the rainbow, my front yard the pot of gold.
(First, I apologize for the green fence. I blame the weather.)
Second, there’s a rabbit in the rose bed. It’s been there most of the morning, and I have no idea why. It isn’t grazing, just sitting in the rain as if waiting for something.
Third, there’s a squirrel on the fence above the rabbit. A full-alert squirrel, complete with full-alert scolds, waving its tail in agitation.
Fourth, there are yellow-rumped warblers. Flitting and chirping in nearby branches, the warblers add credibility to the squirrel’s alarm. (Because birds are more credible than squirrels…)
But there’s nothing to explain the rabbit’s vigil, or the squirrel and warbler alarm. It’s just a scene, a few moments cut from the yard’s mysterious context.
I feel like a child, plaintive in my need to know. I ask, again and again, “Why?” And the yard, like a distracted mother, answers with silence.
My husband mowed last weekend. It had to be done. The result is a fairly even swath of topped weeds, broken here and there by dandelions.
The mower’s blade shaved off an entire generation of henbit and purple dead-nettle. Taking advantage of their new access to sunlight, a shy crop of ground-hugging weeds have bloomed in unison.
I’m frustrated by the yard’s new blooms, but not because they are weeds. I’m frustrated because they are unknown weeds. Few things bother me more than not knowing.
While I’m reasonably certain that the white petals above belong to chickweed, my wildflower guide and online research have failed to provide a name for the pale purple flower below. I suspect it may be a type of speedwell, based on those four striped petals. But the hairy leaves? They don’t seem to fit.
What am I missing? Any ideas?
Morning rain escalated into an early afternoon thunderstorm, which, if the forecast is correct, will spawn more thunder and rain as the day progresses. The squirrels and warblers don’t seem to mind, so maybe I shouldn’t, either.
Rae Spencer 