Tag: cardinals

Who Needs TV?

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This morning on the back patio while Kitty Andersen and I were sorting pine straw for craft projects (I know, my life is glamorous and magical and you wish you were me) we were found ourselves in the front row of a spectacular show.

The curtain went up to a great and brief left over rain shower when one squirrel leapt onto the winged elm branch dispatching all pooled water from recent storms from its leaves onto the tin roof.

Landing in the rubber tree a single blue jay called to his friends. First, he nattered, almost clucking, I had never heard a blue jay do that before. Then he let loose his powerful ear-splitting screech. It was this call that produced another, then another. The meeting was called to order. There was disagreement, as there always is at these things, resolution, some discussion and then eventually adjournment, but not before one attendant stomped off in a huff.

While the remaining executives were in the throes of their strategy, five squirrels rushed across the top of the fence, stage right, the first one stopping short with each one following bumping into the next, and one less than present fella tumbling to the ground. They regrouped and continued along behind the bushes, the rubber tree – we lost one to the rubber tree, seems even squirrels have squirrel moments – then on to the orange tree. All the while they chattered and giggled.

The blue jays squawked directly at the fuzzy gray mammals causing them to stop and look around while wringing their hands as if to say, “Wait, shhhh, did you hear something?” When the answer was clearly no, they continued on.

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This went on for quite some time. Kitty Andersen abandoned her sorting duties for a better seat atop the stone elephant. Not until the jays flew away and the squirrels pounded across the tin roof to the other side of the house, did she feel ready to get back to work.

Perhaps tomorrow Mr. and Mrs. C will make a guest appearance.

Watching Grass Grow

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A side effect of not being constantly engaged in social media is the time to stare into my backyard. It may seem like a misuse of time to you, but I can assure you it is paramount to my overall well-being.

I have three favorite perches in my home: The glass and bamboo patio table right under the ceiling fan on the back porch; the Pier 1 wicker saucer chair we’ve had forever with the charmingly rusted foot stool (now table) beside it, also on the patio; and one corner of my exceptionally comfy sofa. All three of them face the back yard.

Can I tell you about it, again?

This yard will never be in a home and garden magazine, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade the squirrels, doves, cardinals or lizards from visiting frequently. The bees and butterflies are undeterred when the orange tree or flowers start blooming. And what I can only suspect is a citrus rat – (since squirrels are not nocturnal) scurrying up the fence when the light comes on and the dogs go out – seems perfectly at home scavenging for fallen oranges..

I have a rubber tree that has not had the benefit of nature’s hard freeze to help stunt its growth. It’s over 30 feet tall now. A bay tree that seemed to have died, proved us wrong when we cut it down by sprouting 5 baby trees. Now all over 15 feet tall. And many other overgrown, bright green hiding places for various Florida fauna.

There are a few palm trees in the yards behind mine and when it’s windy it sounds like it’s raining.

There are strategically placed wind chimes around the patio and a few naked, out in the weather, that add to the music of the raining palms.

There’s just enough space between the trees and the fence to provide a never ending play of light and shadow when the slightest breeze blows.

Doves often take to the exposed patio for a lover’s promenade.

And ferns play host to untold numbers of winged and multi-legged critters.

There’s a dish with water on the table that sits on the dove’s patio. Throughout the day any number of birds can be found sipping the water or taking a quick bath. Occasionally I’ll catch a squirrel taking a drink. And most recently I’ve spied a few lizards and even a yellow jacket quenching their thirst when it seemed it would never rain again.

But the enchantment doesn’t end with the back of the house. The front yard holds its own charms.

A towering live oak tree that serves as a condominium for no less than three squirrel families. A magnolia tree that blooms on and off all year, it seems, dropping leaves … always.

IMG_7620And Elma. Remember Elma? Our struggling winged elm tree that was transplanted from the back yard to the front? It was dire there for a while. No rain and searing heat took their toll. We were convinced she just wasn’t going to make it. Her leaves turned brown and eventually fell off, her tiniest branches eventually snapped with the gentlest breeze and even some of her sturdier branches yielded to pressure from water. The plan was to toss her into the yard recycling pile, we just didn’t get around to it. Thankfully!

I’m happy to report that the recent rains, lots and lots of watering, some encouraging words and a little petting have proved successful. Elma lives!

There’s a metaphor in there about being transplanted or transformation or rebirth, but I’ll let you create your own story about that.

It’s nearly dusk, it’s time to move to the saucer chair and catch the late show.

Full of Dirt and Good Intentions

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Since I was already sitting there, on the back patio, I decided to catalog my back yard.

My criteria for “stuff” seems to be anything I could pack up and move with me. So not the trees or plants rooted in the earth, or even the stone patio we set, but the items I usually bring in when a hurricane threatens to blow through, are what made the list.

I have always wanted to landscape my tiny back yard so that I couldn’t really see the fence surrounding it. I’ve been here 16 years (it was supposed to be five) and this has not happened on purpose or through the beauty of managed overgrowth. But I still love my organically messy back yard. We planted native trees when we moved in alongside the existing orange tree and rubber tree, so it’s much more lush, but still not the garden of my imagination.

It is small. My porch, which is huge, probably eats up half my yard. If it weren’t for the mosquitoes, I’d probably do away with the screen that divides the two spaces. But, Florida.

Because of my greenish-brown thumb, I employ a lot of potted plants – 30 to be exact. This way, I can move plants that are floundering to a different spot. More shade, more sun, eastern exposure, southern. There are a few of these in the front yard as well, but I’m getting a head of myself.

I have a small scrolly table with 4 chairs I inherited from my great uncle. It’s aluminum I think and the paint is peeling, but maybe that’s part of its charm. On it is a collection of those pots I mentioned, full of nothing but dirt and good intentions. In addition there is a hand made decorative plate I got from somewhere, filled with water. We have a bird bath in the front yard and the doves love it. The doves also love our back yard so I thought I would treat them to a second option. Since “installing” the back yard bird bath I have hosted not only doves but blue jays, cardinals, titmouses (titmice?), finches, generic brown birdies and squirrels. If I sit very still on the patio I can watch them drink and bathe without being noticed.

Then there are the chairs. Not the ones that match the table, the other 4 randomly strewn throughout the tiny space like some modern art installation. An art critic may note the longing of the two empty chairs seated next to one another, waiting, waiting for two lovers to return. Or the solitary chair facing east as if it’s former occupant sat anticipating the sunrise each morning. I’m not sure what this critic would say about the aqua chair with peeling paint and no seat.

I have a favorite sculpture I bought many years ago that is made from soldered metal parts that once belonged to other things and now through the mind of a Frankenwelder it has become a beautiful rusty bird. I’m a little attached to it.

Like the patio, I could let all of this go – except my bird maybe – but I enjoy it while it’s here. The extra chairs? those could find another home. Between all the chairs outside and all the seating on the patio I could comfortably seat 22.

Aside from the pots of plants and dirt, there are a few stone statues – one of an angel, one a monkey – a plaster St. Francis, cause he loves all the critters of course, an unattached panel of fence hiding out of sight and a stack of slate tiles meant for something greater. Oh and there’s a tiny table between the two chairs for those lovers so they’ll have somewhere to put their tea. Because surely they would have tea. Or maybe wine.

Total number of items in the back yard: 65