What the Bumblebee Said

When I first bought this place, almost two years ago now, I made a promise to myself that I would come to know every nook and cranny, that I would teach myself to fully see everything around me and it would become as familiar to me as my childhood home was, after years of exploration. 

Every day, on our walk in the meadow behind the house, Buddy covers the now familiar ground as though for the first time. He never seems to tire of it. Together, we're seeing things (well, he's mostly smelling things) from a renewed perspective.

For example: the other day, a tree that sits along the fence line, and which appears to be half-dead, was alive with butterflies. A variety of them floated around my head and some even posed for me. I was particularly smitten by this beauty.  Her velvety brown wings tipped with circles of blue and fringed with white, reminded me of a dress I wore to a Christmas concert when I was 15. I played the clarinet, rather poorly, and that's not a humble statement. It was really bad.

Just across from the butterfly tree is my garden, where I was faced with yet another tree that's in dire need of pruning, but the pink blossoms sprouting from the almost bare branches asked me to wait until later in the season, and then only with great care. Where there is life, there is hope. That's what the bumblebee said.

When I turned, I saw my cabin through the trees. From the back, the green and blue reflected in the windows caught my attention.

As did the vines starting to fill out around the roof line of the chicken coop and garden shed:

Then it was the old snow fence lying curled up in the corner...

...several patches of little white flowers next to the skeletal remains of a long-abandoned shed, and the play of shadows on what is left of its walls:

Back at the garage (a term I use loosely), a collection of blue shovels Otis left behind (I trust he didn't need them where he was going) was reflected in the metal siding, along with some of the irises he planted:

When I went to get some garden tools from the shed, the mama bird, who created this magnificent nest in the rafters, sat on the lilac bush just outside and expressed concern for my presence, as her offspring patiently waited with open beaks. Of course, when they knew I was there they quickly closed them.

No, it doesn't look like Buddy and I will be running out of things to see, or smell, any time soon. The wild roses that line the north side of my vegetable garden are just starting to bloom:

Buddy, grown tired of posing, says hi.

Here's Joni Mitchell performing "Woodstock" at Big Sur, in 1969: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBqodL2OJ1A

"I dreamed I saw the bombers
riding shotgun in the sky
turn right into butterflies
above our nation."

~ Joni