March 22nd, 2009

caillebotte_the orangerie


Spring's first day brought mounds of white clouds and a pair of chattering blue jays who have nested in the bush by the corner of the house. They will cadge the food I put out for the feral cats and bathe in the water bowl. Their offspring will wake me early in the morning with loud cheeps of hunger. I guess it's worth a bit of cat food to keep their noise brief. The cats probably won't agree.

I heard coyotes yipping and howling again a while ago. They grow bold. For a few years I seldom heard them. I blame the recession for their return. No longer able to dine on the scraps left in the woods by wasteful yuppie hikers and campers, they are moving back into the town to raid yards where pet food (or pets) may be left out. My yard is fenced, but the fence has fallen so many times that it's now as gapped as an old wino's teeth. I expect to look out one night and see glowing, canine eyes looking back at me. I hope the feral cats are quick at climbing the trees.

Though this afternoon was chilly and swept by gusts of wind, tomorrow will be warmer and the air will probably grow calm. Azaleas have bloomed, and I expect to catch the scent of gardenias any day now. The bones of the oaks will soon be fully clothed, and shade will fall across the lawn. There will be time to sit on the porch and wait for darkness while listening to the frogs croak and the crickets chirp, and inhaling the fragrance of flowers and new growth. There will, alas, be pollen, and much sneezing. Ah, spring, all softness, sweetness, and snot!

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