Feeding or Fooling the Birds

I bought a gallon of shelled sunflower seeds at the Bird Store on the Cape thinking I should dust off the old bird feeder and hang it from the shepherd's crook where the summer basket of flowers had hung. Then I could watch the birds from the window. This is also the same shepherd’s crook where I had hung the hummingbird feeder that attracted no hummingbirds, but in my experience, the winter birds aren't as picky.

So I put the bird feeder back together--the three pieces of plastic column inside the cage to keep out the squirrels, (Ha!) filled it with the sunflower seed, and hung it on the hook. 

For several days the level of seed seemed unchanged. Then on Monday I noticed the level had gone down some, but when I looked at the plastic column, I saw that I had put it in upside-down so that now that the seed was below the tiny spouts where the seed spilled out, there was no way for the birds to get at the seed. So last night I brought the feeder inside intending to correct my error today.

It was on my to-do list as I sat eating my breakfast when I saw a tiny chickadee fly from the hydrangea to the hook where yesterday there was a feeder, then back to the hydrangea, then back to the hook, and then fly off. I felt as if I had tricked it into thinking this was a good place to look for sustenance, then taken away the food.

I immediately fixed the feeder, filled it with seed and returned it to its rightful place. I can only hope that the birds will find this again. I suspect they will.

Autumnal Equinox

When and how

the earth turns or twists

to create this moment of balance

is beyond my control.

Exactly when the planet

leans into darkening hours

shorter and shorter days--

all this is out of my hands.

I may protest

every minute of disappearing sun

the packing up of porch furniture

the pulling out of extra blankets,

yet there is a sort of comfort

in knowing that the universe decides

when to replace a second of sun

with a second of night.

But it is I

who must make

the decisions

about my old dog,

I who must decide

what path to take for today’s walk

whether through the rose garden

or around the lily ponds.

I who must choose

between the chopped chicken

or beef in gravy

for his dinner.

On this day of transition

I look at the basket of unused toys

hind legs that cross or collapse

cloudy cataracts,

and I wish I were not

entrusted with

decisions about 

his universe.

September's Sweetness

September's Sweetness

This morning's peach

may be the last this season,

everything about it perfect.

The soft skin peels easily

to reveal sweet gold fruit.

I savor each piece,

hold it in my mouth

for just a moment longer.

       From upstairs I hear

       a plaintive whimper.

       Riley is calling for me

       to carry him downstairs.

       I cradle his warm body

       and hold on to the rail.

       I want to hold him like this

       for just a moment longer.

Monkey Business

I recently watched Planet of the Apes, the 1968 version starring Charlton Heston. Somehow over the years, I had missed it, so decided it was about time. Parts of it seemed dated, and the acting was spotty, but, all in all, a good movie with some interesting messages. The idea that what we're doing to each other and the planet may cause us to devolve seems still relevant. There were amusing moments too, and one, in particular, made me laugh out loud.

Heston's character, Taylor, is an astronaut who travels 700 years into the future and crashes on this land run by apes who, seeing humans as a sub-species, imprison and enslave them. He, unlike the other humans, can talk. (I did wonder why he never questioned the fact that they speak English when he thinks they are from some other place in the universe, but I'll leave that question for another day). When he is put on trial before three orangutans who will decide his fate, he tries to tell them the truth of who he is and where he has been, but is immediately silenced because humans have no rights here. When he tries to speak the truth, we see a shot of the three orangutan judges, one with his hands over his eyes, one with his hands over his ears, one with his hands over his mouth--the classic "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

I was reminded of this funny but telling scene this morning when I saw conservative personality Laura Ingraham's posting of a crowd cheering Donald Trump as he told a Telemundo reporter, "You're finished," when he pursued questioning him about his comments about Mexicans. Then I recalled hearing yesterday that Trump had refused press credentials to reporters from the Des Moines Register after they had printed a critical editorial about him. Now, the fact that candidates are in conflict with the press is nothing new, or even that they try to control access. What worries me is those who see his actions as something to applaud.

I am reminded of those orangutans who are more comfortable remaining ignorant than facing a truth they find uncomfortable. A free press--a truly free press--will, at times, expose us to uncomfortable truths, will make us angry, will cause us to want to turn it off--something I do habitually to Fox News, but, as Thomas Jefferson reminded us, “The only security of all is in a free press." If we are to make intelligent choices about who will lead us for the next four years, it's important that all the news gets out there. 

Gifts from the Hydrangea

I write often about the old hydrangea in my back yard because it is what I see from the window

Neighbor Antoine Helps
Clean Up After the Storm

Hydrangea 6-23-15

where I eat my breakfast, because it is old and persistent, and because it keeps offering me gifts. Early last winter a heavy snow storm weighed it down and brought it to the ground. I mourned because I thought I had lost it. Then this spring little green nubbins turned into
leaves, and it was back. It had lost some branches, but clearly it had survived the winter once again.

Yesterday I heard the familiar cheep of the cardinal, and as I walked around, I determined that it was coming from the hydrangea. A ruffle of leaves led me to look on the side near the driveway. I walked as close as I could, trying not to scare it off, and sure enough, there was a female cardinal hiding under the leaves. I was particularly glad to see it was a female, not because I don't love the bright color of her male counterpart, but because of her subtlety, I don't see her as often, and I like her muted colors.

Then this morning from my peripheral vision, I could see a commotion in the yard. I turned to see two squirrels chasing each other up the tulip tree and down, over the fence and back, and into the hydrangea. One went off out of my vision, but the other stayed on the ground below checking out what goodies had been left there--seeds from the tulip tree, I suspect.

At other times the hydrangea has offered me chickadees who made a home in a hole in the old branch, sparrows hiding from the blue jays, and, most amazingly, monarch butterflies whose life began hundreds of miles away. Before long the blossoms will come with their wonderful scent, and the bees will be busy again.

So this morning I am just stopping for a moment to be thankful for my old friend and all the gifts it has shared with me. 

Trees and Transition

When I moved into my house 33 years ago, there were two very large box elder trees in my back yard. I appreciated the shade, but before long there was a problem--box elder bugs. I soon learned that the two trees differed in that one was male, and one was female, and the seeds of the female attracted these pests. They did not appear to do damage to the tree, but as Wikipedia explains, "their congregation habits and excreta can annoy people." Yes, indeed, excreta can be annoying!

In the fall of the year they would swarm and cover the side of my house and Sunny's house next door. Sunny, a charming 90 something inveterate gardener, volunteered to pay to have the tree removed, but winter came, the bugs disappeared, and I forgot about them. That is until Easter Sunday when sitting around the dinner table with all my family, the bugs (who evidently had been hibernating in the cellar) woke up and started flying all over the room. This was not the way I intended to celebrate the resurrection!

OK, I gave in. The yard, after all, was really too small for two large trees, so I had the female tree removed. No more bugs. Well, no more box elder bugs. It wasn't long before I discovered that the other tree was infested with carpenter ants. Removing it became an issue of safety. So now I had a bare yard with no shade.

At Mulak's Nursery, Bonnie suggested a tulip tree would grow quickly and provide good shade, and soon the sapling was taking root in my yard.

She was right. It grew quickly, and the yard soon was shaded once more, and every spring it produces yellow "tulips." These were here this morning. I learned--once again from Wikipedia, source of all information--that the tree is related to the magnolia, and I can see the resemblance.

Today the tree towers above most of the others around. It took a beating in the October storm of 2011, yet it continues to stand and leaf and flower. 

Number Numbness

Hold on to this number

024-34-0812

and this number

413-782-0970

and this number

5466 1608 1345 2093

Make sure you don't lose them.

Numbers open everything.

Don't get them mixed up.

You cannot call home with your Social Security number.

You cannot charge a purchase with your cell phone number.

Numbers are very particular.

Even though there are only 10 digits,

they dance around

and jump over each other

and then jump back again,

and they expect you to remember

when and where they stop.

I am holding on to

 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 0,

but even though it looks like

123, 456, 890,

it's not.

Numbers are tricky like that,

and put in a dot

and everything changes.

On the first of January

we are expected to use a new number,

2015 instead of 2014

or is it twenty fifteen

which, technically is

two separate numbers.

I can't hold on to these numbers

they keep slipping out of my hands.