JOY ALONG THE WAY; SEASON BRINGS CHANGE OF SCENERY

Early on one of James Russell Lowell's perfect June mornings when one could hear life murmur and see it glisten, I walked down the hedgerow to look and listen.

Alas, the familiar old hedgerow has been rearranged, not that the trumpet vine grows where the honeysuckle did or the oak, ash and wild cherry trees have changed places.

The ash tree is storm-gone, the oak,storm-crushed and the wild cherry, limb-challenged. The grape vines are struggling along the ground where a storm-felled tree smashed them.

The Brer Rabbit briar patch (barberry and fence roses) where I once was trapped like a tarbaby no longer looks so formidable.

I especially miss the ash tree. When I formerly passed underneath it I often broke off bunches of their seed spangles, sprayed them gold and had a marvelous, wispy arrangement.

The ash tree came down by degrees. First, the May storm took the top half of it. Chain saws eliminated the rest and city trucks took the whole shebang away to a final resting place, maybe a shredding mill or a crematory.

I saw a neat little bit of architecture in the crotch of a low bush. How had it survived! I looked for egg shells or dead baby birds but saw none. Maybe the mother bird had survived and proceeded with life after the storm, for, standing on tiptoe, I peered into the nest and saw four little white eggs. It will be a good thing to watch.

Nature is so quick to make repairs. New growth has already overcome most of the damaged low growth. The trumpet vine will bloom again, maybe more abundantly for the nature pruning.

The humble plants, biding their time to rear up and make themselves known, are still in their appointed places. The poke weed will come up, form berries which will dry and fall to the ground to potentially make other poke plants. The goldenrod will survive as if nothing had happened. Already the fleabane has formed a white lacy border along the storm tossed disturbance.

I listened for the birds. A warbler flitted through silently. A mockingbird gave out only one phrase and a blue jay uttered a single "span"." They are still affected by what happened there. Maybe they had young.

When Brer Rabbit jumped out in front of me, sprightly, I was overly delighted. If there were rabbit babies they had been protected in their little underground fuzzy nest.

Overhead a crow cawed derisively, giving his opinion of what had happened. "Never mind, Crow," I answered. "Mother nature,perhaps, has a need to house clean in spring. Soon you'll look down with appreciation and your call will change to "Awe, awe."

REJOICE!