A LESSON ON THE BIRDS AND THE BEES – AND THOSE LITTLE SLITHERING THINGS CALLED SNAKES

Before my dad became sick with his own cancer journey, he did woodworking.  One year, he gifted his children with birdhouses he made from scratch and I liked mine so much, I asked him to make me more.  In the house I lived in at that time, I was a single mom, working full-time and raising two teenagers.  Dad and Mom were constants around that house as they really did help me bring up Genny and Michael.  There was an island of Aspen trees in my front yard, and Dad hung a dozen bird houses he had made on the trees in that little grove.   When spring came, Genny, Michael and I would sometimes sit on the front porch and watch the nesting birds, anxious for the babies to hatch.  A couple of times we were lucky enough to witness some of the babies make their inaugural flight.  One time, we held our breath as a little one tumbled out the hole of the birdhouse -- right before he almost hit the ground his wings started flapping and off he went into his brave new world.  Those birdhouses were fully occupied every spring and without them, I doubt Genny, Michael and I would have witnessed the up close and personal lessons in learning to fly.  When I sold that house, the buyers stipulated in the contract that all the bird houses were to remain.  That surprised me because the houses weren’t fancy and in fact, were somewhat rustic looking.  But they were charming and gave character to the Aspen grove.  I wish I had taken just one of those birdhouses down and kept it.  I thought there would be time for Dad to make me more.  But then cancer came.  And his woodworking days were over.

This weekend, I purchased birdhouse kits and the grandkids and I learned to read very poorly written instructions and how to hammer nails into two pieces of wood (and pull nails out and hammer again, and pull them out again).  Finally, through wood-glue stuck fingers we got our houses assembled.  The painting was the best part.  These houses don’t give justice to the ones Dad did, but with practice, I hope to get better and even saw the wood pieces myself (this thought frightens my husband to no end, given that he witnessed how I handled a hammer and nails this weekend).  The kids will hang their houses in the backyard trees of their own home.  Mine goes in the Maple right outside our bedroom. I’m hoping we’ll see some nesting sparrows next spring. 

Ann's birdhouse

Hannah's birdhouses

Tyler's birdhouse

While taking pictures of the various growth going on in the garden this weekend I also happened upon several bees buzzing on the Concord grape plant and gave Hannah a lesson on why bees are so needed in the garden. She doesn’t like the bees at all and, therefore, doesn't appreciate their role in gardening.  Hannah refused to sit on the bench with me as I was snapping away pictures and hung out closer to the patio door where she could make a quick exit from the outdoors.

I called Hannah back over to me as I headed towards my tomato plants.  What happened next was very exciting for me but not so much for Hannah, as we happened upon a little snake.  I was able to snap a picture right before the little guy slithered off to the tune of Hannah screaming in the background.  Hannah is a great little gardening buddy but she’s going to have to toughen up some when it comes to outdoor critters.

And exactly what is Hannah’s most tolerable animal in the garden?  Why Tondu, of course.

Finally, having nothing to do with birdhouses, bees or snakes, I end this journal with a picture of the clematis in full bloom, because, well, it is just too gorgeous not to do so.