It has turned out to be a beautiful day despite a few threatening cloudy periods. I worked a little on some outdoor projects - or I should say I "dabbled" at them since I didn't work very hard. Keeping all the shrubs and bushes pruned is a full-time job, so it seems. Not to mention the barberry thorns that 'sliver their way' through my work gloves and become embedded in my hands for the duration of each summer. By Thanksgiving, I usually have removed them all and the wounds have healed.
I have said that when I planted all the forsythia and barberries so long ago, little did I know I was 'creating monsters!' My goal is to get them down to a size I can manage and, little by little, I am accomplishing that. (Thanks to Lori, the local landscaper, who taught me how to "let them breathe." That became an ongoing joke between Bob and me. Whenever he saw me trimming, he would ask me if I was letting my bushes breathe.)
I'm in the process of reconfiguring the driveway and laying a sidewalk, using recycled flagstones. Thank goodness for grandsons who came to my rescue and handled the ones that were too heavy for me to lift. (I learned you cannot pry them up off the ground using a metal baseball bat. The bat either bends or the stone rolls off it. . .which can be dangerous; especially if you are a brittle old woman.) As I was raking up the small, excess stones, I found what I thought was just the shell of a robin's egg but it was an unbroken egg. I always feel a little sad to find them like that, wondering if a nest has been invaded by another species of bird. I like to take empty nests I find while pruning and nestle them in my shrubs as decorations. Adding an egg or a shell completes the look.
I enjoy puttering in the yard. I believe it's one of my favorite things to do. The methodical movements accompanied by the sounds of serenity coming from the woods create a perfect setting that invites the most profound thoughts to free-flow. It can become a spiritual experience, depending on how much you are willing to 'let in.' That's how Bob described his feelings, too, whenever he was plowing a field on a tractor, alone with his thoughts and the smell of freshly tilled soil would fill the air around him. It's no wonder some of the most beautiful classical music was inspired by forest and nature sounds. If you are still and listen, you will hear a symphony.
Of course, there is always a 'flip side.' For instance, the continuous rain-like sound of caterpillar droppings as the greedy little worm-like creatures munch away on the leaves of our lovingly nurtured trees. Just as the Grinch came to steal Christmas, the dark, prickly 'wooly mammoths' have come to steal our shade! Then too, if you live in a rural area, of course you are familiar with the unmistakable stench that will occasionally permeate the air for miles. It comes and goes depending on the direction of the breeze at the moment. (I assume that's how the expression, "...down wind of" became so common.) If you are in the company of others when the 'invisible intruder' arrives, you will pause what you're doing, look at one another through an expression of disgust while trying not to inhale. . .nod knowingly and, in unison, utter the word, ROADKILL! . . .and then resume what you were doing.
A final thought. . .
You know you're a redneck when you have to shake caterpillar poop out of your hair before you go inside.
No comments:
Post a Comment