I am sitting in the spacious dining room of the Senior Independent facility where I have lived for the past five years. It is a beautiful sunny day. I’m looking out the window which faces our pond, a pond often teeming with nature’s activities. A mourning dove sits quietly perched on the patio railing, perhaps wanting to be sure he is mentioned in this review. Redwing blackbirds nest in the high bushes there. If you are watching, you can catch glimpses of cardinals and goldfinch and robins and doves and chickadees flying around. Ducks come and go, landing at will on the pond for a swim. Frogs and snakes and butterflies live among the cattails and bushes. A Canadian geese ‘family’ strutted around the area in late May with five little goslings trailing along behind them – hatched in a nest well-hidden in the brushy areas around the pond. Occasionally a muskrat is sighted swimming there, and a skunk delivered her offspring among the cattails close to the walking path this spring, which caused a flurry of excitement for a few days! A red fox was sighted running across the lawn last fall. Black squirrels and gray squirrels fearlessly roam across the outdoor patio where coffee and local gossip are enjoyed around the wrought iron tables on many a summer morning.
In addition to the animal life, plants and trees of every sort abound in the pond area. There is a mature sugar maple tree across the way that resembles a large mushroom and its round sphere is a sight to behold in the fall when autumn colors appear. Vibrant green pines and flowering crimson ornamental trees, flowering shrubs and a few tulips planted in a small flower bed tended by a resident add to my window view with shades of colors as varied as crayons in a Crayola box… All is well with my soul.
Last week, an unusual incident happened near the patio, witnessed by the morning coffee hour regulars — usually ten to twelve of us. We had noticed a redwing blackbird laying very still on the patio and realized he must have hit the window so hard it caused his death. We became aware almost immediately of a number of blackbirds flying back and forth from nearby trees, flying directly over the bird on the patio in a distressed manner. They continued this commotion for an hour or more before leaving. They must have been aware that the bird on the cement patio was no longer alive. Could this have actually been happening? Have any of you witnessed a ritual of this sort with birds?
But I must move on… (My friendly mourning dove still sits atop the railing, as I turn my thoughts to other news.)
I recently visited the newly-opened Blue Vase book warehouse in Interlochen, about ten miles from Traverse City. And found a treasure! Have you ever looked at a book cover and known you had to get this book before you even opened its pages? Turn Here – Sweet Corn: Organic Farming Works by Atina Diffley had me hooked. Published by University of Minnesota Press, Atina Diffley wrote a 335-page book in story form of her passion for the land, the soil we walk on and plant gardens in, the soil that constitutes acreage for farming and forests and beaches and gopher holes. Soil often pocked with stones and rooted perennial grass clumps. This woman loved soil. Loved it enough to endure drudgery, crop-destroying storms, fifteen-hour work days, years with no profit as she and her husband put all available resources back into healing the land on their farm. What a teaching, compelling page-turner Diffley created as she told of her honest endeavor to live the dream and, in reality, answer the urgent call of her heart and soul. I learned in the most elemental terms of the almost impossible demands of creating a certified organic farm. It is an incredible tale.
At approximately the same week that I ‘had my nose in that book until late in the night’, I received an invitation to a writing workshop June 27 at Providence Organic Farm in Eastport to speak about my efforts of writing, self-publishing and marketing the book Ira’s Farm: Growing up on a self-sustaining farm in the 1930’s and 1940’s.
Have a good and productive summer, friends. Happy gardening. I’ll write more later. Ginny