On the Feast Day of Hildegard of Bingen

There is burning in the nasturtiums.
The moment evening is about to fade
They fire 
An entire day’s gathering of sun
For anyone to see.
Any other time
They’re a sassy orange 
The opposite of faint.
But just as the sun lowers herself 
To kiss the neighbor’s maple
The nasturtiums descend into fullness 
And glowing red
Give away all their light.

Now is the Month of Maying

While the USGS predicts a sizzling, dry summer for the gardenhood and far beyond, Spring has been among the earliest and most glorious in memory.

In the long list of glories, the 12 x  12 Cotoneaster in the back yard is dressed in shimmering pearl. The blossoms smell salty and have been dancing with bees, moths, and painted ladies. A fecund celebration.

Weeks ago, when everyone started asking, “Do you think this means we’ll have a hot summer?” I gave long, rambling answers about Colorado’s erratic weather history. Truth is: I thought so, but wasn’t saying.

Why tarnish the pleasure? No matter what lies ahead, spring will end. Don’t they all?

I’m sticking to my guns. This spring is more than revel-worthy, and revel I shall.

So, will you join me in a little musical celebration?

Now is the month of maying,
When merry lads are playing, fa la,
Each with his bonny lass
Upon the greeny grass. Fa la.

The Spring, clad all in gladness,
Doth laugh at Winter’s sadness, fa la,
And to the bagpipe’s sound
The nymphs tread out their ground. Fa la.

Fie then! why sit we musing,
Youth’s sweet delight refusing? Fa la.
Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,
Shall we play at barley-break? Fa la

– Thomas Morley

See you this summer!

Ephemeral: Two Weeks of a Watermelon Tulip

April Fools Day, 7:30 AM, she is a comely bud.

Within three hours, she is open for bees-ness.

For a week she opens and closes, keeping the sun’s hours, and then…

She ages with continuing grace.

Morning kisses her with mist.

She is showered with kisses.

She begins to undress.

A petal at a time.

Graciously.

Revealed.

Showing the way.

The Other Purrson in the Garden

It’s time you heard directly from me how life goes around here.

She calls me “Ed”. More than once I’ve heard other furless purrsons laugh when she introduces me. Purrhaps if she used my full title, Edward the Handsome, they would show a little more respect.

In the moment, I’m sitting in her lap, dictating this report. You can see I’m a patient and intelligent feline.

She, on the other hand, moves around so much, that I can only surmise she is restless. Isn’t that the opposite of patient? My old purrson was very patient. He stayed in one place for so many hours, I could come and go from his lap as I pleased. She doesn’t watch TV or take naps in the afternoon. Pity.

When she works at the computer, she jumps up to answer that ringing, or dash outside, or bang around in the kitchen. I curl up in the warm, black chair when she leaves. Who wouldn’t? She’s out of luck when she comes back and pulls up the hard chair with the small blue pillow.

As for intelligence, she speaks only one language, and I’m here to tell you, it isn’t Cat.  She repeats everything I say, but I can’t allow as she actually understands. Maybe if I say things louder….

It seems to work better if I use nonverbal approaches. When I first came here, I went on a hunger strike to protest the health food diet she had in mind for me. Now, she feeds me what my old purrson did, and I’m glad.

Also, I had to scratch at the door and run around the house like a crazy purrson, before she realized that after 15 years, I wasn’t about to  convert to indoor kittyism.

She shows promise. If I walk to one of the doors, she usually follows me and opens it. That part she gets right. However, she seems to think just because I got her to open the door, it means I want to go out right then. What if I only want to smell the air? Then she makes speeches.

“I know you had an open pet door at your old house, Buddy.”

That’s her favorite. By the tone of her voice, I’d say she’s sorry, but she hasn’t done a thing to correct the situation.

If I do go out the door, she always says, “Come back safe.” That’s kind of nice.

She took down the bird feeders. Oh, except when there’s snow or rain. I don’t DO wet.

Another thing: As far as I’m concerned, grass is a waste of real estate. It’s only good for chewing on once in a while. Sometimes, I high step across a stretch of it in order to sharpen my claws on some good, rough bark, but walking on it is one of those necessary evils. So, I keep it to a minimum. It’s a good thing she has provided me with sidewalks.

Ah, yes, and the front porch. It’s a great place to sit and stare.

I’ll check back in with you from time to time. I think she’ll be pretty good about it, even times like now when there’s a lot happening outside, because I’m polite when I ask.