Life—the thrust of living—seems raw and irrepressible on a day like that. Every niche, no matter how small, is fully occupied, no-vacancy signs visible everywhere. At dawn I walk through one spider trap after another, trailing silk by the time I get to the barn. Any object I move, I discover a colony of creatures behind it or under it or inside it. This is a farm of overlapping settlements and empires, and I plod through like Godzilla, undoing the work of the ant and earwig nations just by moving a five gallon bucket or a fence rail. (209) More Scenes from the Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg
I try to garden for a short time each morning before the heat of summer builds. Gardening is a meditative act for me; it gives me the mental space to think. I step out of the house into the silence of our new property, no earbuds, no discussion. I am alone, lost in thought with an agenda at hand that usually includes watering and weeding.
However, now that the neighbors have spotted not one but two black bears in the neighborhood, I find my senses heightened lest I run into the trespassers. My increased awareness has brought to my attention that I really don't step into solitude and quiet when I step out into the green. Rather, from the time the first bird announces dawn's arrival to the cacophony of insects that fill the darkness at day's end like the chorus in a Wagnerian opera, nature is engaged in a drama of living and dying all around me.
I need only engage my senses to begin to see it. My recent observations include:
- The bumblebee hid under the leaves of the zinnias to stay dry from the watering can's heavy downpour.
- The sounds of woodpeckers hard at work echoed through the woods.
- Butterflies of all shapes, sizes and colors were feasting on the unidentified flowering tree beside the house. (Note to self: figure out what kind of tree blooms in the heat of July!)
- The crows were gathering and cawing to ward off the small hawk that landed near the circle drive.
- I am delighted to still recognize the song of the cardinal, the call of the blue jay.
- The toad found relief from the heat under the trim by the garage, blending in perfectly with the red Virginia brick.
- The yellow jackets swarmed around a large nest in the ground next near the forsythias behind the house, threatening the lawn guys and prompting a call to pest control.
- The salamanders with black body and indigo-violet tales sit in wait for crickets and beetles and roaches, baking in the sun on the brick walk.
- The red ants organized an offensive at the very thought of an attack; unfortunately, they settled at the foot of the front entrance.
- The gang of deer ravage the neighborhood, particularly the pack of six bucks that devour my hydrangeas without a second glance. Once the rut begins, they'll be in competition but now they bow to peer pressure under the gaze of the buck with the rack that is inordinately large for July.
- Twin fawns emerge from the wood's edge, seemingly abandoned as mother has yet to be spotted.
- The housing market remains hot for wasps, causing a building boom; the hornets simply focus on an addition to their dwelling to accommodate newcomers to the nest.
- The hummingbirds remind me to focus on adding (deer-resistant) flowers to the beds next year.
- The bugs continue to amaze me in size and variety, including dragonflies with black and white striped wings and beetles of emerald green. However, the spiders are a topic I would rather not discuss.
- The petitions of the praying mantis rose up from the flower pot on the back deck.
Amazing what one small plot of land yields. Peace and joy remain amidst the cacophony.
