Rabbits

 

May 8, 2021

Lay down for a nap, and when I rose saw two rabbits hopping across the street to my garden. A little later I peeked out the back window and saw them chasing each other round and round the iris bed. Blessed.

Rose this morning, and when it was barely light I was at the Hard Times Trailhead, determined to see if there was anything new on the lake. Surrounded for a few minutes by a large and raucous throng of joggers, who, however, soon left me behind in something resembling quiet. Big Canadas thronged the edges of the lake, but nothing else that I could see. A number of anglers dropped their hooks in the water. I went to the far side of the lake, into the wetlands and beyond, where in a park-like grove of considerable beauty, I realized I’d gained an escort of phoebes. They followed me with their gentle body language, their brilliant black eyes. The forest is lush now, the floor filled in with vegetation, the roof filling in with leaves. I was captivated by a scent, sort of bergamot-meets-lily, which my app identified as Autumn olive. It was ravishing. When I got home my research suggested that Autumn olive is an invasive alien and I should not have been deriving pleasure from it. It certainly was abundant against the open path.

My not having received my seeds from Eden Brothers had become a kind of frenzy, so it was well when I returned from the mountain and discovered they’d arrived. Dug, hoed, planted. Feel a sense of relief and closure: spring can actually move forward now. Twelve packets planted, three packets left to plant, with half the weekend yet before me.

Tired on the trail and in the garden, but never out of breath. 

Fixed the motor for the pool with little fuss, but sat at the table eating lunch when I heard the breaker thrown again. A short somewhere. I congratulate myself even to know that.

A nearly perfect day.