The English poet William Blake once said, “No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.”  Both of my parents wanted that for me and they also both loved to feed the birds.  When I got married and we bought our home I could not wait to set up a bird feeder.  I eagerly anticipated the tranquility that watching them pause to eat would bring.  However it quickly became more like watching a gang fight.  The mourning doves, which I had always assumed were peaceful, became horrible bullies and crowded out the cardinals, mockingbirds, and even my beloved (and somewhat aggressive) blue jays.  We had the most well-fed morning doves around.  Pretty soon they became freakishly huge and started to resemble hordes of quail.  The poor little finches and sparrows could not even collect what was on the ground.  Fat squirrels (whom my husband calls “blub blubs”) hogged the bottom around the feeder gathering crumbs with all the desperation of a group who had just broken out of a fasting retreat.  Then we found out the cute tree rats were partaking from the feeders at night and that’s when the hubs said we had to stop.  I knew he was right but it broke my heart not to feed the birds anymore.  Devoid the chattering of squirrels and the cooing of mourning doves it has seemed sadly quiet.  We used to call our side yard “cat TV” because there was always something flitting about to watch.  Our cats would crouch down, make weird noises, and stalk their prey with twitching whiskers from the comfort of the den.  Then a visit with my family in Arizona made me realize:  hummingbirds!  I could at least feed them without bringing in anyone else.  Eagerly I came back home and made their nectar, a simple solution of one part white table sugar to four parts water.  The feeder is red to attract them without using any dye and it even has an ant blocker so the hummingbird’s nectar cannot be infiltrated and stolen.  I’ve had it up for months now and so far nothing.  I still keep watching and hoping; they say it takes awhile.  But I must confess, all this waiting is for the birds.

Times have changed so much since I was a kid.  We ran wild until it was time for supper without a care in the world.  My mother’s only qualification was that when she called me I had better come RIGHT then.  She made dinner from scratch every night and I came back tired and happy from playing tetherball, catching bugs, and climbing trees.  The world is a different place now:  there need to be scheduled “play dates”, there are new strains of awful mosquitos, and sadly kids have to worry about strangers.  I have some really nice clients that fly north for the summer to escape the netherworldly humid Texas heat.  They have an enormous back yard that is well over an acre and completely enclosed.  I told my little one she could just go and play while I worked and she could not believe it.  “Just GO?!” she asked in shock and disbelief.  “Yep” I said nonchalantly.  “But you need to watch me,” she stated with a hint of fear in her voice.  “Nope” I replied.  “You are completely safe here.”  “What about bugs?” she wanted to know.  I whipped out the repellent, covering her from head to toe and told her she was good to go.  Hesitantly at first, she went outside but lingered close while I went about my job checking on the house.  She discovered a putting green where she turned the dignified game of golf into a hybrid of cricket and some sort of carnival game at the fair.  Next she found the swing and a little while later she was running around the giant azalea bushes in circles shrieking with abandon.  She ventured out even more and crossed over their bridge that leads to a gazebo in the very back.  After I’d finished my rounds I came out to play with her.  We raced and laughed and tried to scare each other.  The comforting sounds and smells of late summer brought me back to when I was little and being outside with total abandon.  One of my favorite quotes is from the Lebanese born poet Kahlil Gibran:

“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”

And that is exactly what my little one and I did … out in the great outdoors.

What little I know about ladybugs is that they are beneficial, eating pests such as aphids off rose leaves.  Many cultures consider ladybugs to be a good sign.  I was fascinated to discover the Christian legend that says they were sent by Our Lady the Blessed Virgin Mary to protect crops.  Grasshoppers I know leap tremendously far in the air and, according to what I have unearthed, it is the Chinese symbol of abundance.  They only leap forward.  I saw both this lady and this guy pictured here and I have decided I am going to claim a double dose of good luck that will be coming my way.  After all, I think catching this ladybug before she flew away and getting this grasshopper pic before he jumped ahead was a pretty extraordinary occurrence for someone just out in their yard watering the plants.

“If all mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago.  If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.” ~ American biologist E. O. Wilson

I am not superstitious, nor do I play the lottery.  But based upon that quote alone I am feeling lucky.

As I have confessed here many times, much to my lament I do not know plants like my mother did and trees like my father did.  So now I am having to learn them on my own.  These are Morning Glories that are growing wild along our driveway.  They open fully to the Eastern sun and by noon they have closed themselves up waiting for another day.  In that way they remind me of water lilies.  I have heard they are invasive.  Some of my favorite plants and trees seem to be labeled as invasive so I am not sure exactly what to say on that.  I also seem to have an affinity for plants rooted in Asia; to me they have such a delicate, graceful flow of movement.  The American dancer Martha Graham is quoted as once having said:

“‘Age’ is the acceptance of a term of years.  But maturity is the glory of years.”

I love the vine’s heart shaped leaves and delight in waking to its prolific blooms.  They serve as a reminder to me that each day I should stop and savor the morning glory.