July 7, 2012

Bird-song-y first of morning. Kevin the frog has note yet joined the chorus. There usually needs to be a little more light for him.  Ben the giant tree man and his less giant helper hauled the broken limb and the debris away. The magnolia was not broken at all. She was bent over completely onto the ground under the weight of her neighbor, but was supple enough that with a little help is erect and hopeful again today. Replanted the royal fern whose planter was smashed away around it. A few days will tell what was killed and what merely bunged up a little. Yesterday’s brief, sweet rain helped.  My attitude toward the back yard is changed though, like one who has gone through an earthquake. I’m watchful walking under the sweetgum. I listen for the neighbors’ great oak, overarching both my vehicles, to come crashing to the pavement. Ben and I have selected the trees which go next. Caroline is ecstatic, for they are yellow pines which border her parking area, and she claims they rained down ruin on her cars. Nobody speaks up. This could have been done years ago.

All this has made me tired and dispirited. The garden was meant to be a refuge. One doesn’t expect to be attacked by it.

Off to Denver tomorrow. Am not looking forward; dreading, in fact, but this is usual with me.  Eighty five things must be done before we leave.

Kevin gives voice. It’s time to start the day.