The things that affect us

A turquoise blue egg, fallen (or stolen) and halved, sits on the path. I leave it for Henry to come upon.

The wren seems to happen to be where I’m going right before I get there and to fly out at me and then pass me up, lighting on, usually, the telephone wire or clothes line, where she trills away, agitated but still lovely sounding. She is the mama bird who lives in the birdhouse outside the back door.

A robin lives in the plum tree. Twice I tried to sneak peaks into her nest, thinking she wasn’t home. (Honestly, there was no sign of her. How does she flatten herself into that small nest that way?) As soon as I got in close, out she’d fly, a quick dash – first right toward me – and then away. She lights on the ground and screeches, very clear about not liking me there. I apologize and go on my way, smiling.

I just love the birds.

The weather, in the last week, has gone from sultry to beautiful. Donny had a friend from Nevada sweating his way through the sultry week. He told me, “In Nevada, we have 1% humidity.” He pulled out his phone, or blackberry or whatever it was and said, “The humidity here is ninety one!”

So the humidity has lifted and the mood has changed in the yard and I think of all the things that affect us. I feel for the people out east.

Then the smallest, most delicate looking baby bunny hops onto the path. The sun was behind a cloud as she emerged but then comes out, leaving her caught in the brightness. I wonder if she’ll hop off but she doesn’t. She’s eating something – stands right up on her hind legs to the green tops of a weed. Then she’s off and I watch her travel to where the two big elms stand close together with a lot of brush in between. I’m so glad she has places to hide.