Birdsong

In April’s shifting hour of predawn, the mourning dove sang his mating song. His sorrowful three notes hung solitary in the air until the robins commenced their chorus.

Oh, yes, those blessed red-breasted creatures will have nothing to do with sorrow. Never have. Never will.

Joy is their strength and song. A reality I determine to embrace as I lay in bed, drafting my mental “to do list” for the day.

Finish weeding the pea gravel patio in the backyard.

Prune the juniper trees the deer nearly destroyed during winter.

Rake leaves from backyard gardens and deadhead plants.

Mow the lawn for the first time this year (if there’s enough daylight left).

Now, I’ve intentionally placed mowing the lawn last. Although I mastered John Deere’s snowplow winter past, that was easy-peasy compared to navigating these steep, rolling hills.

Furthermore, when my neighbor installed the mower’s blade yesterday, he said, “Your blade’s shot. I’ve ordered a new one, but go ahead and use this one meanwhile.”

Well, I was a rookie last year, learned the hard way where the dips and rocks lay waiting. Hopefully, I’ll remember when behind John Deere’s wheel again. After all, I’m no spring chicken.

Speaking of chickens, as the pen and house both need repairs, and considering my imminent roof and attic expenses, I’ve postponed buying new pullets this spring.

Yes, I miss the Isa Browns’ company and eggs.

Yet, remember the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back?

Well, an Arabian camel is one strong animal, one to ponder seriously.

So, I did, and recalled life is a balance of brawn and brain, considered the cost of a new chicken pen, feed, and hay before I leapt into the project.

Nonetheless, for some reason I cannot nail, I’m eating less eggs these days.

Now, dear reader, it is noon, and my redbud trees burst open before my eyes, the breeze blows scented petals from the magnolia tree, asparagus tips poke through the soil, all calling my name.

And the birdsong? Oh, my goodness! Nothing less than Creation’s finest praise to this planting and growing season.

Therefore, as husbandwoman, I must conclude this brief ode to Spring to fulfill my to do list before sunset.

For I anticipate Michigan’s western sky tonight, a gorgeous palette of oranges and reds. I’ll be waiting in my favorite green swing under a maple tree in the backyard.

The same swing where my husband also waited for another fine, Michigan sunset.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com