The only thing I can say now about my back yard, front and side yards is that they look drab.
After leaf raking in the autumn when all the neighbors are tidying their yards, I have mine cleaned up too, testifying that I want the neighborhood to always look clean and neat. But less than a week later the big saw-toothed oak and the pin oaks in my yard continue to shed brown leaves. They are not on the same page with local season of leaf raking. Not until new spring buds give the old clinging leaves a nudge do they give up and fall to the ground to enter into another dimension of their lives. I guess they are like babies in the womb or full-grown humans; they sense something better up ahead but they are so comfortable and familiar with the dimension they are now in.
I look outside now, sometimes venture out and have to eye-hunt for greenery. I have one lone evergreen tree. There is a short hedge of euonymus, all very dark green now. A neighbor has some boxwood bushes that stay green all year. Everything else is brown and gray. Very drab. My house seems to be sitting in the middle of a brown shag carpet, very textured.
The back yard where the bird feeders are, the purple martin house stands tall, expanse where the squirrels and rabbits play in summertime, gives me so much pleasure in kinder weather I feel disloyal calling it drab. Let me make some amends. If I went to that place in my yard which is in the corner of the northwest ell of the house and scratched away the leaves and other winter debris, I'd find some fascinating green things - mosses. Plural. In some past winter days I have done this and found several kinds of mosses. I have taken clumps of some into the house to study and identify, which requires a good magnifying glass. Most common is the cord moss. Most interesting one, the hairy cup moss. Then there is the pincushion moss. One winter I made a terrarium of some of these mosses. I put in some small imitation flowers and a ceramic frog. It didn't last long. I think my thumb was purple that winter. Probably the most interesting thing was that a sunflower seed sprouted and grew to be about 4 inches tall. I suppose the seed was hidden somewhere in the pincushion moss, most likely scattered there by some bird.
It is a big deal now when the cardinals come to the feeders, or a red-headed woodpecker lands on the trunk of the big oak and stays a while. Welcome dots of red.
I am eagerly awaiting the first calls of the doves. I referred to my last year's journal and found that I heard them in February. Specifically on Feb. 7.
Other entries for last February were: Feb. 5 - Worked long and hard on a manuscript I have entitled, "Joy in the Journey", a spinoff of my weekly column. Another entry for this day a year ago: Feb. 4 - Jodi Thompson came for a little visit. She brought me a soft, white handkerchief and a little bunny rabbit pin made of seed pearls. We had a good talk. Feb. 5 - Rested most of the day. (I must have worked really hard on that manuscript mentioned above to have to rest all day). Feb. 6 - watched Tiger Woods in the Pebble Beach golf tournament. (I love to observe persons who do things to perfection). Feb. 8 - Dorothy Randol came to see me, bringing two delicious pears that are not available here. Dear Dorothy, always caring for others. Feb. 18 - lots of daffodils spears way up today. Lots of doves too.
REJOICE!
Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.
Connect with the Southeast Missourian Newsroom:
For corrections to this story or other insights for the editor, click here. To submit a letter to the editor, click here. To learn about the Southeast Missourian’s AI Policy, click here.