There are a hundred things I should be doing this fine afternoon other than sitting here at my computer or taking pictures of frogs. But it's not my fault. Honestly, if you were minding your own business on a regular trip to the compost and found this little guy chilling out on your pitch fork, could you resist the urge to run inside for your camera?
And suppose you took the long way back to the house and spotted that elusive rusty brown Flycatcher zipping into the pine tree. I'm sure you would have staked out a claim and vowed to stay planted in the yard soaking up the sunshine, listening to the other frogs peep and the breeze rush through the woods until one of the pair made an appearance again. Now maybe you'll understand why I continued to get distracted by the wild sprouting, fluttering wonder in my backyard. After a few minutes the Flycatchers continued to elude me and my attention turned to Mama bluebird hovering close to her box of little blue eggs. Mr. Bluebritches has also been spotted each morning perched on the clothesline as he awaits the arrival of his brood.
Turning again toward the house, I stopped to admire the peas (above) and onions sprouting up in smart straight rows.
And just before I made it to the top of the steps, I turned to spot another tiny green visitor clinging skillfully to a bouncing branch.
So, I may cringe at the bumper crop of dandelions in the front yard, the overgrown, shaggy pair of pine trees behind the garage, or the mutant underground spurge of crabgrass taking over my flower beds, but there must be some tiny bit of appeal to at least these gentle creatures in the rambling nature of the place. I suppose if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me.
Each night Nora and I have been reading from Laura Ingalls Wilder. We've made it to the middle of Little House on the Prairie, and I look forward to the stories even more than she does, I'm sure. Reading about the Ingalls family's satisfaction in the simplest of pleasures and little Laura's appreciation of the natural world around her tends to put everything in perspective at the end of the day.
Ma hummed softly to herself while the iron smoothed all the wrinkles out of the little dresses. All around them, to the very edge of the world, there was nothing but grasses waving in the wind. Far overhead, a few white puffs of cloud sailed in the thin blue air.
Laura was very happy. The wind sang a low, rustling song in the grass. Grasshoppers' rasping quivered up from all the immense prairie. A buzzing came faintly from all the trees in the creek bottoms. But all these sounds made a great, warm happy silence. Laura had never seen a place she liked so much as this place.
