My garden exploded with color this late summer and I’m out in it every morning. I enjoy the rising temperature as the fog lifts and fades. I want to burst into song and sing John Denver’s “Sunshine on my Shoulders Makes me Happy”. But I don’t. My neighbors may not share my enthusiasm for the morning hours.
The hens join me, clucking and scratching around my feet as they dine on juicy grubs, earwigs, and weed seeds that are exposed. I’m able to let them “free-range” now that the Labradoodles are a mature 2 years of age. The dogs consider the hens curious creatures, but requiring too much effort to chase down, pluck, and debone, when kibbles are so available.
I’ve been patrolling the garden each morning for green-spotted cucumber beetles. I’ve put hundreds of notches in my belt.
We’ve had more than our share of bird visitors this year. Several families of yellow finch nested nearby, along with the usual sparrows, finch, juncos, bushtits, jays, towhees, woodpeckers, crows, and doves. Hummingbirds buzz by my ears letting me know their feeder is empty. Coveys of quail scurry through the garden with little ones in tow. How tiny and vulnerable the chicks are, and how vigilant their parents.
Our sly neighborhood fox has been cruising but we haven’t seen her kits yet this summer. The vultures soar high overhead as the fog lifts, occasionally leaving a “Jackson Pollock” creation on our deck. I hose it off and continue my morning stroll, coffee in hand.
I recently wrote this in my gardening column in The Cambrian. People seemed to enjoy it so I’m sharing it with you.