Parula Warbler

 

April 6, 2021

Since it was a flawless day, drove to the Hard Times trail head. On the water were Canadas and a grebe and two hooded mergansers. The blessing was that in the rose tangle along the trail I spotted a little blue bird that turned out to be a parula warbler, my first unambiguous sighting. The forest was full of people walking their dogs or cycling, the lake studded with fishermen. One will have to go deeper and deeper for solitude, when one wants solitude. When I came home I addressed myself to the long overdue shipment of plants from Plant Delights, from whom I will not order again. Most of the plants were rootbound and had to be pounded and dug from their boxes. Planted lily of the Nile and elephant’s ear and acanthus. Exhaustion came upon me. Still more to plant tomorrow. Sweetboi perched in the maple and watched me, not even screaming the way he usually does, patiently waiting for me to go inside and fetch him his meat. Work goes well on the play. Plays and novels require completely different kinds of attention, and it’s hard to work on both at one time. My mind is a procession of strange, re-evaluating memories. It’s a kind of Purgatory, for moments I thought were settled or inconsequential reappear in ways that others might have experienced them, in which I was mean or foolish. Luckily I’m able to shrug them off and go on, the general (and true) explanation being that I didn’t know better and therefore could hardly have done better.