stepping into the darkening woods from where I had just been collecting
handfuls of black-capped raspberries and wide open sky,
greeted by a hundred points of scattered
light flickering over the ferns and in between tree trunks.
a lightning bug spectacular.
what if this could be our way of celebrating july 4th instead of those booming light shows of independence?
straddling our bicycles
at the crosswalk of the traffic circle (roundabout) (rotary)
holding a lost (and now found) phone in our hands,
accessing the contacts list without a passcode,
and talking about the pros and cons of whether recent calls or favorites
would be a better place to start searching for the owner.
i wouldn’t want someone calling my most recent calls at 10:30pm on a monday night i say to r, so we go to favorites and we call
arriving at a’s place after a winding drive of watching spring trees bloom, ready for a promised nettle harvest and whatever else we might come across, i find her in the woods looking for the perfect tree to set up her newly built
wood duck nesting
after finding the perfect tree (a standing dead elm just at the edge of the pond) we weave and crash our way through the phragmites to balance the wood duck box against the tree trunk to
screw it in place.
i am covered in wood shavings (that we put inside the box as a nest filler) and it becomes apparent that the screws we have are just a little too small to hold up the (wood duck size) box high up on the tree. it (only sort of) falls on my head as i let go of it, and so we stop our endeavors to wait for
more appropriate hardware.
following a’s instructions on holding the edge of the nettle leaf while cutting the stem, my fingers don’t get stung for the first time when nettle collecting. see! she says smiling with a told-you-so inflection in her voice if we’re gentle with the nettle she’ll be gentle with us.
on the way to my car, hands full of said nettles (and some raspberry leaf forages) (and a couple of horseradish leaves) i run into r in the driveway. you went shopping? i ask to his hands full of grocery bags. yeah, post farm day shopping. he is wearing end of the day dirty clothes.
sheepishly, he holds up a bag so i can have a better look. i had to buy kale he says and we both laugh acknowledging the criminality of that act. as far as i’m concerned, he says spring could last forever, but we just need summer so that we don’t have to buy kale.