With a nod to the spaghetti western of 1966 (Really? Was it that long ago I fell in love with Clint?), here is my saga, set against the backdrop of the Concord River.
The hummingbird garden is in full bloom and the hummers seem to be enjoying it. Each day the flowers get visited by three birds and several butterflies. Next spring I plan on expanding the width and length. Eventually, it might take up the whole yard, which would certainly cut down on the mowing.
Hard to believe four months ago it was nothing but dirt, seedlings and sweat equity.
Every morning I’m greeted by dozens of mallards with empty crops. “Feed us!” their quacks demand, “And not that cheap white bread, but nutritious whole wheat bread!!” (Maybe that last part is in my imagination.)
After breakfast, it’s preening time, an elaborate ritual of dipping into the water, spreading feather oil, and flapping of the wings. One must stay well oiled when you live on the water.
A good wing flap also offers post breakfast exercise.
Not only do I get to feed the ducks each day, but sometimes they stay on the lawn to play in the sprinkler, just like a bunch of kids.
Some even drink the water, which I’m sure is much more delicious than river water.
Others prefer to sit and allow the water to wash over them.
When it’s all over, I’m left with fat, clean, happy ducks.
Even More Good
Isis, my great blue heron, is a daily sight. Her call imitates how a Pterodactyl might have sounded. When I hear her, I feel like I’m living during the late Jurassic period and expect to see a T-Rex looming over the trees.
No, she’s not a large lizard. She’s a large, stunning bird.
Even More Good
I’ve discovered by feeding the ducks from the retaining wall, the sunfish will also visit for some bread. On a few occasions, a couple of catfish have appeared, large enough to command $17.99, with a side of fries and cole slaw.
A painted turtle joins the breakfast club too.
Yes, life on the Concord River is very, very good.
Well, it had to happen. With all the life around me, it had to be expected that I would start seeing death. However, I didn’t plan on causing it. Last Monday night I was rolling out the trash barrel and rolled right over a shrew. At first, all I heard was the screaming. Dashing into the house for the flashlight, I arrived back in time to see the poor thing trying to drag itself across the driveway. Yes, I started crying. No, I didn’t have the backbone to put it out of its misery. Instead, I wrapped it in a t-shirt and placed it in a box. Good thing I keep these boxes handy. The next day it was dead, so Sparky and I buried it in the rose garden. Be at peace little shrew.
The dragonflies that live along my river are jewels. Brilliant blues, emerald greens, dashing reds. Absolutely breathtaking.
My gardens are blooming and my newest rose bush blessed me with not only a deep coral rose, but also one of the sweetest smelling roses in the garden. Sorry, this blog isn’t scratch and sniff.
The morning mist as it travels across the river. My words can’t even begin to describe the beauty of it. Stordimento!
This brings me to the close of my saga. My life on the Concord river is often good, sometimes sad, and always beautiful.
Blessed be :}