A Single Bird's Song

Diary of a week

Monday, June 10

At first blush of morning light on the edge of the eastern sky, birds begin to sing. Their morning song floats through the open bedroom window, past the linen curtains moving gently in the breeze, and around my sleepy head, waking me to the new day, waking me to listen. I do. I listen to the entire chorus. Then, I pick out a single bird’s song and listen again.

Tuesday, June 11

Turns out, snow fence is the perfect rustic version of a picket fence that I’d imagined it to be. Even better by summer’s end after it’s weathered grey.

Wednesday, June 12

Baby robin met me on the lawn near the clothesline, asking me to watch him fly this time. I did. He took off, flew up and over the pasture fence like a pro and expertly landed on a branch of the fallen cottonwood on the other side. He looked back to see if I’d seen. I had. Then I told him how proud I was, and what an expert flyer he’s become with those long tail feathers he’d grown and all.

Thursday, June 13

I followed the arborist around his lot, listening to his wisdom about trees, mulch, water, disease, pruning - he covered it all, with a sheepish apology part way through about the mini education he was delivering. No worries, I said, I always want to learn new things. He scooped bucketsful of chips with his tractor then, and dumped them into my truck. When I asked what I owed him, he replied, Not a thing.

Friday, June 14

Our first look. We were reminiscing about it over the phone and the miles between us. It was in a large room of people seated in rows. He was near the back; I was a few rows ahead. He noticed my long, curly brunette hair, and my petite frame. Then you turned around and looked at me, he said, and I saw your face for the first time and thought, ‘My gosh, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.’ We were married just over a year later. That was thirty years ago this fall.

Saturday, June 15

It was the idea of an English cottage garden with gravel paths that inspired me, but also pushed me. Is there another material that I might use that would give a similar look and feel? Wood chips, perhaps? After spreading the last wheelbarrow load over my garden paths, I’m now sure of it, and simply delighted.