Through the blinds I used to see a tall Norwegian maple<\/p>\n
with leaves the color of tanned leather<\/p>\n
bigger than my outspread hand.<\/p>\n
It had a scar along the trunk, a long vertical burn<\/p>\n
where lightning struck one afternoon<\/p>\n
without rain or storm.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We liked the yard a little wild.<\/p>\n
The tall, straight nut trees of ancient age<\/p>\n
blocked the sunlight from the gardens<\/p>\n
so the undergrowth was straggly,<\/p>\n
except for the honeysuckle that grew<\/p>\n
in wild abundance, trying to dominate<\/p>\n
much stronger plants, and the thick moss<\/p>\n
that grew instead of grass.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
One spring we planted a thousand bulbs.<\/p>\n
Two hundred daffodils along the stone wall<\/p>\n
behind the maple, and three hundred tulips<\/p>\n
around the maple\u2019s base and over toward<\/p>\n
the steps by the steep driveway.<\/p>\n
They were splendid when they bloomed.<\/p>\n
Violent, bright colors against winter browns.<\/p>\n
The rest were crocus, and we tucked them away<\/p>\n
in every place we could dig a hole in the front.<\/p>\n
They bloom first, and we wanted the joy widespread.<\/p>\n
Unfortunately, the grey squirrels wanted food.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The crocuses were a treasure hunt they never tired of.<\/p>\n
So we planted ground cover that liked the deep shade<\/p>\n
and let the wild life come and go as it would.<\/p>\n
Sometimes there were deer. One day a mother turkey<\/p>\n
and six babies. Another time rabbits.<\/p>\n
Occasionally a ground hog or a fox.<\/p>\n
And when the snow was over for sure, we had<\/p>\n
nests of red chipmunks in the stones,<\/p>\n
with their little flirty tails twitching and shrill barks.<\/p>\n
They drove the dog crazy.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
But it was the birds I loved. We had more than I could name.<\/p>\n
Cardinals, bluejays, finches, nuthatches, sparrows, woodpeckers,<\/p>\n
owls, hawks, and wrens, mockingbirds and nightingales to trill in glory.<\/p>\n
Peace lived there, among nature\u2019s bounty and beauty,<\/p>\n
in the rhythm of life and the seasons.<\/p>\n
A time of joy and blessing,<\/p>\n
a time of true contentment.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Through the blinds I used to see a tall Norwegian maple with leaves the color of tanned leather bigger than my outspread hand. It had a scar along the trunk, a long vertical burn where lightning struck one afternoon without rain or storm. We…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1075,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[197,828,2122,637],"class_list":["post-42865","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","tag-beauty","tag-garden","tag-vivian","tag-window"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42865","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1075"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=42865"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42865\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":43188,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/42865\/revisions\/43188"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=42865"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=42865"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=42865"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}