Lifesaver

Margaret W. saved my life today. 

Last weekend, she came with her sister Ellen to pick up an Amelanchier obovalis that I put up for adoption, as my garden offers insufficient sunshine for a proper home.

As I showed my guests my eleven new hostas, Margaret glanced up into a stand of oak trees and noted a gigantic limb suspended loosely in the branches 50 feet above the azaleas.  I resolved to stay away from the azaleas on windy days.

This afternoon was damp with occasional drizzle, suitable for spreading buckets of leaf mold under the evergreens.  As I worked under the azaleas, I remembered Margaret's warning.  I glanced skyward and noticed the limb directly overhead.  I backed out of the tangle of shrubs and two minutes later, the branch fell with a crash.

The impact of the branch left a deep hole, which is still there, waiting to twist my ankle. 

Thank you, Margaret, for being so observant.  Instead of poking around the azaleas, I should have been appreciating the autumn flowers in the front and side gardens.  

Beside the driveway, pink impatiens planted themselves in a large container of  clethra that I rooted from cuttings.  

Nearby Madagascar periwinkle gave a shot of color all summer.

Near the street, Lantana "Miss Kim" blooms from May to October.

The last flower of the native passionvine Passiflora incarnata is as beautiful as the first.

The tangle of yellow and blue flowers beside the front walkway is buzzing with tiny bees today. Flowers include Solidago "Fireworks", Salvia guaranitica, S. farinacea and Aster "Bluebird."

Autumn birdsong

As summer turns to autumn, seeds and insects are plentiful in the backyard wildlife habitat.  A few months later, wild birds struggle to find food and shelter.  This poem is dedicated to the creatures who pass through my backyard wildlife habitat.

Shelter me in spreading boughs of green

Hide me under fallen leaves of gold

Harbor me in purple berried branches

Cover me when autumn days grow cold.

Comfort me when dreary days draw near

Shield me in the darkness of the night

Feed me in the coldest weeks of winter

Cradle me in your warmth and light

Acorn

In the final days of treatment, I could not work at the university and was trapped inside the house until recovery.  My hearing was diminished and my sense of taste was gone.  My skin was blistered and bloody, full of scales and scabs. 

Nancy came to stay with me, and we worked jigsaw puzzles as we watched daytime TV.  We ventured out briefly to Whole Foods for provisions or to Elmo's Diner for lunch or to the Chapel for Sunday services.  Yet those simple days were immensely satisfying.   Eventually Nancy had to leave too and I sorely missed her.

One night soon after, there was a storm.  After the winds died down, I went outside to check for rain.  There was no standing water under the dogwood.  No puddles had formed on the low spots along the driveway.  The pavement was wet but it still had the dusty scent of drought.

The garden was littered with the tips of oak trees, bent twigs with clusters of foliage firmly attached, and perfect acorns nestled inside, still green.

The simplest forms of acorn and leaf were the most beautiful.

An oak, stripped to its essential core, is still an oak.  And deep inside each acorn, there is a life that is waiting to be experienced.