Early Riser

It is the weekend and yet my eyes are wide open before the sun even shifts its golden shoulder. I hear a rushing noise outside the window in that velvet darkness. I am curious and pull back the covers and and flick on the deck lighting to find that it is the wind pushing a nice soaking rain across the deck. Everything is shiny wet and when I open the door it smells of good earth.

This gentle sprinkle lasts a short time and I crawl back into the softness of the bed and open one of the many books on the nightstand arguing with myself about whether to make coffee this early. I am just getting into the good part about whether the friends will remember each other after all these years, when I hear a rhythmic bird song, ever so gentle but close.

I once again walk to the window and see a portly wren sitting on the gridded table and with his head tilted to the sky communicating something with the great night. He gently repeats the same short call and then begins like a wind-up toy to hop around the table, pause and cheep, and then continue his hopping and follow with the cheeping.

Was he confused by my deck lighting? Does he do this most mornings regardless of my artificial sunrise? Is this some celebration because the rain has washed more insects his way? Is this an 'after-bath' ritual.

Eventually the gray dawn spreads and the little wren flies onto to the other activities of his day.

In the spring our hopes are high like the youth of the season. Here is basil, and sage and mint and new strawberries. Having had such a great success I was assuming the rest of the summer will also progress in kind. Yeah, right.

I set out wine and green-hued tropical plants in containers near the front door to greet me as I return each weekend. Last weekend this is what I discovered.



The common name of these wine and lime green vines (which I can now show only as thin stalks) is called sweet potato vine. They grow prolifically and hold rich colors if they are not placed in the hot afternoon sun. They will fill a container in weeks but I have now learned that they also make GREAT rabbit food!

Downy is down

We are now back at the house and have moved out of the apartment and I am realizing that I have so much CR*P. Apologies for the 'french' but my consumerism -- based on my strong nest building issues -- is despicable. I WILL repent.

Speaking of nest building, on one of our trips around the house to the back of the basement door this weekend carrying more consumer goods to shelve, we passed a lovely and small black and white striped little bird sitting in the lawn, either in stunned dismay after a strong breeze pushed him off the tree branch or in error about his camouflage situation -- thinking sitting in the grass when you are small and black and white it a good thing.

Hubby, who has the better nature eye, guessed that it was a fledging downy woodpecker. I think I agree. It rested there for several hours but was gone when we returned from the hardward store. Must have learned to fly, after all...they usually do.

I failed to bring my camera down this trip so cannot post this treasured experience.