Izzy and I moseyed by the bungalow where the kids grew up, today. It’s for sale and empty so I looked in the backyard and found this nostalgic nugget. Cue the heartsquench of missing them and their families. One thing I noticed that gives me real pride-gratitude: All of the trees and bushes I planted on a budget to create a place for mosquito-eating birds and to create a screen around the backyard, have grown. It worked. The experiment of moving “starts” of winterberry and redbud from the alley to the yard worked.
There were tiny birds and more singing, swooping and chattering around the yard’s screen. A redbud I planted finally provides shade to the front porch and an antique rose my former elderly neighbor, Martha, gave me is still thriving. The original bush came from her Concordia, Kansas, farm after WWII. Lemon verbena is still growing and the bat house I put up so long ago looks like it has been occupied. I felt both happy and nostalgic about it all.
It is confirmation to me that our investments of time and effort into long-term gains – environmental and aesthetic not withstanding – are worth doing. And it was beautiful and merry in its own way. Thanks universe. Thanks so much.
