Shouldn't…but Do

Last evening, my oldest and I were outside.  He biked the neighborhood, I turned attention to my garden long neglected.

The bird songs that earlier this season frightened me,  now welcome.  Never have a I seen more cardinals, the robins have returned, even the garrulous grackles of purple sheen, have returned.

Each shovel, each still slumbering plant, each garden view, nubby, tactile, present.  The roughness of a brick paver delights bare hand – touch – instead of tunnel vision.

Old grasses, spent lavender wands, woody stems akimbo.  Astringent sage, crushed under snow pack, cut back, fragrant still.

A breathtaking moon rose over my son’s head.  Watch it tonight – at the horizon – both full, and closer to us than any time in the past 18 years.

We talked and wondered at the beauty of this small bit of earth until long after dark. Orion’s belt twinkled as we spun on the driveway in the moonlight.  Intoxicating moonlight.

Far down the road, the first chorus of spring peepers rose.  Gardening at night.  Full moon on the horizon.  Life is good.